Terra Hunter
by TehUnoman
Summary: The Champion: The supreme defender of the land of Terraria. With weapons of the galaxy in their grasp, and the demons of the world fallen, peace seemed to be inevitable. Unfortunately, the Darkness struck back, destroying all the Champion worked for, and were pulled into a portal of unknown properties and volition. They left behind much, and entered a world of bloody evolution.
1. 1-01

**Look, just because I'm giving up on the Game, doesn't mean that I'm giving up writing as a whole. That's rude of me, and unfair to you all.**

 **This note will be the only one posted at the top, unless important information needs to be broadcasted immediately.**

* * *

 _Neutrality doesn't have an opposite to itself, for it is balanced on its own terms, and in that regard, is the most dangerous of all emotions._ ~Unknown

Magic.

On Remnant, such a thing only exists in fairy tales, and the closest to it is Nature's Wrath, or more commonly known as Dust. The people of this world have quite the otherworldy powers, however, with being able to move faster, hit harder as they get hit, summon their slain foes, leave mirages, illusions, disguises, redirect attacks, or even move objects with Dust and their minds.

Certainly not magic at all.

However, farther away, on a different world not too dissimilar to Remnant, if you told someone that magic didn't exist on that world, but had in place Soul power-Aura-and the ability to control it-Semblances-they would laugh their ass off, and then knock you off a cliff for being an idiot.

In the case of one particular individual, however, that notion was starting to seem quite plausible.

* * *

Blinding. That was the first thought that came to the mind of the figure wandering through the woods at this time. Howling winds sliced through the armor and cloak the figure wore, chilling them greatly. It was a bit surprising that they didn't encounter any wolves during this time, as they thought it would be quite obvious by now.

Each step it took was a struggle, one against the ever-changing wind, another against the air chill, and one more against the constant downpour of snow. In hindsight, it felt really grateful for the fact that it made what it needed before the dimensional portal hit, otherwise there would have been issues.

It checked a small device on a blue screen, and it displayed numerous things; time, moon cycle, how heavy the storm is, rare creatures, the amount of enemies nearby and killed, how much damage it was doing each second, if any treasures were detected, and small fishing equipment. It did have the ability to teleport the user home, but seeing as though home was destroyed-bed, house, entire WORLD-it would only take him back to where he first started; in the middle of nowhere.

Well, nowhere had to lead somewhere, right?

With this optimism in mind, the figure trudged on forward, occasionally letting out a flying lantern to light the way, until hours later it kept the lantern on its belt, considering that it wasn't doing much in terms of finding a path.

The figure stopped in the middle of a clearing; the outline of black, leafless trees surrounding him. If it recalled correctly, it was only 11:32 P.M., and with no way past the blizzard without a certain piece of equipment, it had to make camp where it was now. Sighing, it reached for a tungsten-colored gun with a light-blue tip extending just a few inches from the small pistol. Pointing it at a tree, it fired a long shaft of energy, and from the sounds it was making, it struck at the base of the tree, and sliced it down.

An hour passed before the figure made a suitable campfire on the ground, it's flame roaring in challenge to the icy storm bellowing upon the offenders. It also made a small platform so it wouldn't have to sit on the frozen ground. It simply gazed into the fire, and began reflecting as to what in all of Red's existence might've happened on that day...

* * *

With an inhumane roar, the Moon Lord began decaying, it's form dying out from the onslaught of bullets and bolts of magic from the heroes of Terraria. They began to cheer in victory, and when the deity burst in a shower of stars, it was over.

The Impending Doom was averted.

Where the deity fell, it left behind a lunar casket. Opening it up revealed many items: A strange device that opened portals, a pyramid of pure energy that could destroy anything in its path, a book that commanded the falling stars, a staff which called upon a wormhole of lunar energy, a gun shaped in the form of a dolphin (they couldn't question it after seeing their cousins in action), and what appeared to be...a globe of some kind?

With help from the Tinkerer, they discovered it changed the gravity of the individual at will, which caused ringing bells in the Champion's head. After some more research, it appeared that the item was far too powerful when Red released it to the world, and was placed inside the Moon Lord's heart for not only safekeeping, but as the final challenge.

With that in mind, they left it on the table inside the workshop, and headed to a special place; the Tavern. The Demo Expert ran the place when he wasn't being competitive with the Gun Dealer for possible ways to outpace each other in terms of killing prowess. Upon entering, the party was in full swing; Guide was singing along with the Pirate, Steampunker, and Clothier drunkenly, the Dealer and Nurse were in an intense makeout session, Truffle was having a nice conversation with Dryad, the Cyborg was DJ-guy knows how to pick good music, surprisingly enough-Wizard was levitating objects with the Ice Rod (getting applause from the Merchant, Stylist, and the Collector), while the Party Girl, Demo Expert, and Engineer were arguing about something insignificant. It didn't matter then. Both the Champion and the Tinkerer look at each other, nodded once, and joined the party.

Time flew by, and the party wasn't dying. The Champion was nursing a fresh pint of Ale when the building shook violently. At this point, the memories became foggy, as forces of metal and darkness began swarming the town. Countless foes were slain, and yet there were so many still coming forth to kill them all. They almost succeeded too, had the workshop not been replaced by a portal of some kind, with the world cracking apart. Taking no chances, the Champion jumped through, forgetting the Money Trough inside his house.

* * *

It wasn't stupid then; trying to collect something while the Destroyer was there would've been suicidal. There was just so much chaos at the time, it was hard to think straight. The Gravity Globe was destroyed, alongside the workshop. It wouldn't question how the portal was made, as it was one hell of a convenience that it did appear when all things went deeper than the Underworld.

But the question was, what did the deed? Explosives weren't on their person at the time, so it wasn't them. The Destroyer was a possibility, but it wasn't strong enough to cause that much damage to the workshop, Gravity Globe, and create the portal at the same time. Plus, it would be in this world if that was the case. The Demo Expert was killed early on, so it wasn't him either.

It had to be something powerful enough to cause the portal to open, destroy the Globe, and the workshop at the same time. Only a few names came to mind: Wizard, Cyborg, Pirate, Steampunker, Dryad, Moon Lord, Twins, Skeletron Prime, Clothier. He could immediately remove the Twins, Skeletron, Clothier, Pirate, and Dryad from the list, as the first two weren't present in the attack, and the other three were defending the town to the best of their abilities. Which left Steampunker, Wizard, and Cyborg. The first came by as an inventor, so it might've been her, just to see what the test could create. The Wizard was a very good possibility, because he had powers beyond that of many prewar monsters. Plus, he was old, and may have missed the intended target. As for the Cyborg, it is possible to see what might've happened as a bit of an experiment on the world.

So many names, so little time. The Champion's time reflecting and investigating was interrupted by a howl. And it wasn't from the wind this time. It stood up, the gloves it wore began glowing a flaming purple light. It readied itself, and waited for the howling to stop. Soon, red eyes began appearing in the cover of both the shadow of the trees and the blizzard fog of the storm.

The device counted 172 enemies at 1:18 A.M. The night will end with a bang, as it turns out.

The figure walked to where the fire was, and scanned the treeline. It was surrounded entirely, with no way out. So it kept an eye on the clock. 1:21. The howling stopped. 1:25. The eyes began growing larger, owned by pitch black and boney white masses. 1:29. The monsters charged. 1:30. The figure struck back.

With a single outward palm thrust, a bolt of purple energy shot out of his hand, slamming into the first monster's head and causing it to explode in gory bits. In shock, the others stopped for a few seconds, allowing the figure to retaliate easily.

Right hand glowing orange, the figure spun around, spawning an extendable, fiery whip-sword, slicing through more of the monsters. 163.

The sudden counterattack caught the monsters off guard, but some weren't fooled. Those continued to charge, but were struck down by spears of solar flame. With some patience, the figure charged a collection of these spears of dawn in a miniscule-sized sun, and swung in a horizontal arc, pinning down more of the monsters behind him. 149.

At this point, their minds caught up to their bodies, and the monsters began to attack in earnest once more. And though the storm was raining down ice, it now began raining stars upon the enemies, shattering many into oblivion. 111.

Ravens began firing arrows, dive-bombed the Champion, and even picked up other monsters to drop on top of the fighter. They never stood a chance upon seeing a massive, tracking purple mass of gravity closing in on them. 84.

Massive elephants stampeded towards the figure, and what they expected was a crushed human underneath their feet. What they got were light green beams of light piercing their bodies from a bow the figure wielded. 78.

A snake had the idea of coiling around the Champion, and began squeezing. Soon enough, both halves were eviscerated by a beam of white light coming from a pyramid the figure held. It cause many unfortunate casualties. 32.

The figure was getting bored at this point, and decided to end their efforts quickly. Hidden behind his cape was a metal dolphin, which was disguised as a gun. Pulling it out, it fired upon the rest. 0.

Closing up the dolphin, the glow of the gauntlets disappeared. Once the gun was put away, the Champion grasped the golden, gnarled hilt of a sword. Unsheathing it revealed to be a green glowing sword, with the power of purity emanating from the blade. The figure charged the sword, the glow brightening to the point of blinding, and then stabbed the ground. Green swords of pure energy now surrounded the campsite, a hum now present in the location. What red eyes were left now began dimming as the monsters left.

Although this was considered a victory in its eyes, the figure felt the fatigue of the fight falling upon him, and the moment it hit the wooden platform, it fell asleep.

* * *

Voices. Those were never a good thing to wake up to after fighting so many monsters the previous night.

Slowly, the Champion got up, and scanned the area. Nothing as of yet, and upon checking the device, the monsters apparently got the idea of leaving the figure alone. They at least knew when to be beaten. Considering the device wasn't registering anything monstrous or interesting, it had to hide.

With good fortune, it carried a simple weapon that could assist him; a small, bloodied knife. It refracted all light away from the wielder, rendering them invisible to others, but not themselves. The one downside was that it slowed the wielder down to a crawl, but a good price to pay for remaining hidden.

Working quickly, it dismantled the platform and the campfire, which died earlier, and equipped the knife in hand. Thinking quickly, it fired an orange-colored hook onto one of the trees, and landing on one of the branches after removing it.

 _'This branch feels dead,'_ the Champion thought. _'I'm going to have to hold onto the tree if I'm going to remain hidden like this.'_

Upon thinking that, the figure took out a flat-based potion with an orange-colored liquid inside. Popping the cork off, it drank the entire concoction in one go, and felt the effects immediately. Eight figures were approaching the abandoned campsite, their outlines highlighted in black. The Hunter Potions were designed to only do either red or green outlines, but because the Champion was quite paranoid before destroying the Moon Lord, the black outline was designed to put the targets on a medium of sorts; an unknown variable. Allies, enemies, and a possibility of either.

Upon the small group entering the clearing, the figure took the time to scout out possible weapons. Each had their own tools, from an odd box on the hip of one, a rapier to another, dual swords, a standard sword and shield ( _'A classic, also the most dangerous tool if used correctly,'_ the figure thought), a spear and a Greek-borne shield, a hammer(?), and two guns with blades protruding from the bottoms of the guns.

 _'Possible threats, but the yellow one doesn't look like she has a weapon. A mage, perhaps?'_ it pondered. A cracking sound made it remember something.

It forgot to hold onto the tree.

 _'So much for stealth...'_

The Champion landed in the snow, causing it to flare up around him. Sighing, it put away the knife, removing the camouflage. Upon looking at the group, it noticed seven pairs of eyes staring at it with shock and-in some cases-animosity. The eighth was staring at him with excitement and...insanity?

 _'What the hell is wrong with everyone on this planet?!'_

The tension began building, and it made the Champion uncomfortable. The box unfolded into a scythe, one of the swords became a kurisagama, the spear into a rifle, a hole opened up on the hammer ( _'If I know the Demo well enough, that'll use explosives,'_ the figure thought off-handedly), and the bracers weren't there before on the yellow one, but it could've sworn it saw a barrel on both of the gauntlets, and shotgun shells were present.

Realizing that they all are armed and potentially dangerous, the figure held up its hands in front of itself; the universal sign of surrender. The red one noticed, and spoke slowly.

"Hello...sir? We aren't going to hurt you..."

* * *

That set the Champion off. It heard those words before, and immediately panicked. Turning on its heel, it sped off, hopefully putting some distance between himself and the deceivers.

Hearing gunshots, it began using a light pink stave to jump to different locations, expecting bullets to fly towards where it once was. Looking behind, it found the red one using her scythe ( _'It's also a gun?! I would find that awesome if I wasn't running for my life,'_ it thought off-hand) to propel herself to the Champion. Smart, if it wasn't wasting bullets. She apparently was able to move very fast, leaving what looked like rose petals as a path. A path for the others to follow.

 _'Not now, I just need to get out of here.'_

If the storm was still going, the figure might have had a chance in escaping. But the storm ended many hours ago, with the sun still blocked by a cluster of clouds still present in the area.

The Champion didn't know where it was going, nor did it know where civilization was, or if there even is civilization. What it did know was that if it didn't hurry, the worst-case scenario will be very bottomless, if its thoughts were correct.

As minutes went by in the chase, fiery bolts fell down onto the figure, only for it to evade into another clearing, and then try to dodge the saturation of grenades ( _'CALLED IT!'_ ) while also avoiding spears of ice, lightning, and the like. The Champion almost tripped on a black ballistic wire, and while the others converged on the sudden slip-up, the figure used the faux victory to teleport behind them and run to their left, the figure's right.

For a second, it thought it had escaped them. Until it reached a cliffside. Sliding to a halt, the Champion almost met its demise. What sensible deity from the heavens thought it'd be a good idea to make the snow sharpen some stones into spikes? The figure dimly thought to strangle them should he die by impalement from those "natural formations."

 _'Damnit, this is a dead end, have to find another-'_

The figure's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. The eight deceivers blocked off all possible exits, and slowly converged. The white one spoke up this time:

"The guilty never run, sir, so why don't you give up now and make this easier on all of us?"

It eyed each of them over. The white was authoritative, and quite persistent; the red was cautious and nervous; yellow, fired up and eager; bronze, cautious, but calm; pink...was to be avoided; green, reserved and calm; blonde, anxious and nervous. The black, however, was the most interesting: uncertain, confused, minor shock, and...nostalgic?

What made this nostalgic in the first place? Perhaps she's been in this same situation before. It didn't matter, they all cornered an animal. And cornered animals will always bite back. This one was no different, except it'll rip them apart.

* * *

Tightening its fist, the flow of the nebula began to return, and the purple flame reignited. The captors took notice of this new development, and took a few steps back in caution.

Except the pink-haired hammer-wielding girl. She laughed maniacally, jumping into the air for a heavy overhead strike. The figure heard one of them yell out "Nora, don't!" in warning and fear. _'So that's her name...interesting,'_ it thought. It quickly raised it's palm, and let lose one of the bolts of nebula energy. They were highly inaccurate in terms of firing, but when an enemy was detected, they homed in on the target, in which escape is impossible. Especially when the bolt was a deep blue color, as it was much more lethal than the standard purple.

Needless to say, that bolt was a deep blue color.

Upon hitting Nora, she dropped like a fly. She appeared to be breathing heavily. _'How did she survive that?'_ the Champion realized. _'The only ones that could've survived a bolt of energy like that are the Dark Guards_ * _, and even they can't take too many bolts without serious damage.'_

It's thoughts were to be stopped, however, as that retaliation move broke the floodgates of battle. Bronze and Yellow charged, White began firing fire and ice spells, Red began taking pot shots, while Green, Blonde, and Black stood back in shock. A spear shot forward, missing the black and white helmeted head of the Champion. Grabbing it with a silvered gauntlet, it yanked harshly against the grip of the swordsman, which held her ground. The Champion had to let go to avoid Yellow's fists, which were ablaze with gunfire. A solid strike landed on its breastplate, and was placed under duress from the shotgun shell unloaded into its chest.

Now it stopped playing around; it called forth the sunsword from the gauntlet; Solar Wrath, an extendable sword-spear chain weapon, which burns with the powers of solar might. The Champion swung the sword upward, catching Yellow in the chains of the weapon, and began spinning in the same direction as the weapon, keeping it extended-and the brawler from landing another blow. Upon reaching a certain height, the wings it kept hidden behind the black cloak unfurled, expanding to keep the figure airborne, and blinding those still on the ground.

It sliced a few more times at Yellow with the solar weapon, and finished the fight with a pummeling stab, smashing her into the snow. It wasn't done, though; letting the sword sheath itself inside the gauntlet, the Champion traded it with the Daybreaker, a spear of solar light that burns the same as Solar Wrath, and began throwing the millions of spears onto the combatants. Because Yellow was out for the count, the spears dissipated upon impact. But Bronze was not as fortunate; one of the spears hit her shield, and stuck, burning her arm.

Her scream of pain caused the figure to pause, and land back onto the frozen earth. _'That scream was the same as Dryad's...'_ the figure thought upon the realization. It snapped back to reality, just as it saw a giant scythe blade falling to meet its neck. It jumped back, and broke out the Phantasm; a crossbow of vortex energies that fired bolts of the same energy when its arrows are shot out. Because of the reloading system the Champion created, ammunition was no issue; it began firing upon Red and White, bolts of energy firing wildly in the possible directions they'd take. Both were smart enough to hide behind separate trees as the arrows and bolts shredded the forest.

 _'This calls for a different approach,_ ' the Champion pondered as the Phantasm broke down into its base energies. During the entire skirmish, it only used one of the gauntlets to call forth the galactic energies that brimmed inside; solar, nebula, vortex, and stardust. It now needed the second one to perform the next spell; Lunar Flare. With both hands extended, the veins that wrapped around the gauntlets – orange, purple, green, and blue – began glowing white, as the black sphere on the center plate did the same. It raised it's hands skyward, causing lightning and wind to come forth. Red and White didn't see what the figure was doing, but it didn't sound good. Bronze, who just recovered from the Daybreak spear, wasn't able to move fast enough to stop the figure from charging the spell, and Yellow moved to a sitting position to see the figure throw its hands down.

And watch as her sister and teammate face peril from the falling stars themselves.

Her screams of sorrow and rage went unheard as the sound of the flares drowned out the pain. After ten seconds, the storm stopped, and a cloud of white covered over the deed. The figure wasn't done, though. Allowing the figure's wings to take flight, it walked off the edge, and a chromatic glow took place of the white, in which it began to charge something dangerous.

The energies of the Last Prism were known to be deadly to all foes upon getting struck by its light. It would be no different against the deceivers. Placing one palm above the other, but not grasping either, it hovered over its chest, glowing brightly.

Blonde unsheathed his sword, and extended his shield – _'Useful, and intuitive,'_ the figure thought off-hand – and Green loaded his guns. They were ready to stop the Champion from doing this. They took the first step -

"Stop! Both of you, just stay back!"

* * *

And stopped at Black's panicked voice.

Now this made the Champion curious, and stopped the spell from charging fully. It watched Black unsheathe her weapon, and was intrigued by her laying it down on the snow, and kicking it towards the figure. Moving itself towards the blade, it landed back on the ground, and picked it up. In its peripheral vision, it saw Red and White survive the Flares, but were struggling with standing.

The Champion, now completely immersed with the weapon in front of it, began tinkering. It first swung the sword normally. Seemed heavy, but worth it in terms of cutting down an opponent. As it scanned over the sword, it unsheathed the second part of the sword; a katana that lied within the cleaver-sheathe. It was smart, and should an opponent try to disarm, they could only take the cleaver part of the weapon, and be slain by the second part of the weapon.

Upon noticing the magazine where the pommel was at, it clicked on a button and the blade collapsed, becoming a type of pistol. As it did this, it caught the argument of the people in front of it, saying it was not only stupid, but suicidal. With that piece of the argument in mind, it clicked the button again, and began walking over to Black.

Yellow, Red, White, and Bronze noticed, and took a defensive position in front of Black, but she pushed them aside, and walked towards the Champion. Both stopped a few feet away from each other, neither saying a word. Cleaver in its right, and katana-pistol in its left.

It then spoke, for the first time since it appeared in the world:

"I...believe that these..." its voice was raspy, and paused to think each word: it held up the two swords, and began sheathing them. "...are yours..." it finished, completely sheathing them. It changed its hands so they were underneath the blade.

Black was stunned; from fighting all of them to suddenly returning a surrendered weapon? "What...why are you returning me Gambol Shroud?"

 _'That's the name of the weapon? Interesting.'_ "I returned it...for you...didn't want to fight...unless...you had...no choice," it said. "You've...earned my respect...and trust. Not many...can do that...upon meeting...for the first...time."

If she wasn't stunned before, Black certainly was now. The people behind her were very confused, while Blonde and Green were somewhat shocked, and neutral. Nora was struggling to get up, and Green rushed over to help.

"From what...I've...gathered, you and...your allies...were going to...call in?" the Champion asked, catching Black off-guard. "Better...do so now...otherwise, you'll...face destruction...by the monsters that...reside here." It took a step back, and sat down on the snow.

* * *

 _15 minutes later..._

The calm air was thick with tension and veiled anger. The figure wasn't a fool; it could sense Yellow's rage, White's distrust, Red's animosity, and Bronze's unease with the Champion. It was why the figure sat at the cliff, legs dangling off of the side. The cloak reappeared once the wings folded back inside, making it seem more human than normal. Black, who called in their pilots – _'Aircraft! I can finally give my wings a rest.'_ \- said that they'd be here in about 15 minutes. And while they all waited, Black talked with the other four it sensed that they didn't trust the Champion. Which, in all regards, was about the most acceptable thought they had right now. However, it was their fault for continuing the chase, so they were to blame for a portion of the situation.

Luckily, Blonde – who was called Jaune – Green – who's name was Ren – and Nora took a risk to talk to the figure, and try to trust the Champion, like their companion did. Jaune appeared weak physically, but had the potential and, in some cases, drive to excel in any given scenario. Ren was somewhat like the Champion now in terms of speaking; didn't speak unless there was a need to, in which in the fifteen minutes of waiting, had a few enlightening conversations. Nora wasn't insane, as from what it heard from Ren, just...eccentric. She wasn't mad at all for the sudden counterattack the Champion used; in fact, Nora was excited, and wanted to try it again in the Arena, whatever that place is. Though Ren was unsure about Nora's misplaced eagerness in the terms of the figure's attacks, he was curious as to how it managed to do the things it could do.

"A...later time, perhaps. Now...wouldn't be the... best of ideas, all things...considering," it said, receiving a nod from Ren and Jaune, and a whine from Nora about being unfair. She seemed to get the hidden message, though, and didn't pursue it any further.

Which was great timing, as well, since the Champion heard the airship landing. It was...not as impressive as the technological methods of travel it had seen back on Terraria, but it looked very solid, so there was no issue there. It walked behind the rest, into the ship, and found a seat away from the others, as to not make them as uneasy as before. Soon, the figure felt the ground shift from underneath them, and took off to an unknown location.

* * *

 **Why am I ending it here? Because no reason, other than to piss you all off. In which case, I'm doing my job!**

 **To begin, I did say that I was going to hang up the towel in terms of writing the Shadowfall Game. I DIDN'T say that I was hanging up writing. The Game was far too big for me to handle alone, and I couldn't find the time to write it all out if I had the ability to do so. Issues are constantly harassing me, and I can't dedicate the time to write something that massive. Instead, this will be what I focus on until I can work on it full-time.**

 **So! Until then, the schedule will be erratic, which means that you shouldn't expect a chapter each month. I'll also be streaming games on Twitch very soon – this upcoming Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, to be exact. My handle is the same as my FF screen name, so there isn't any confusion. The connection will be shitty, however, and until an asshole I know of fixes his router – I'M LOOKING AT YOU, TOM! - it might not be a solid stream.**

 **This is TehUnoman, and I'll hear from you guys very shortly on Twitch! If not, then stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	2. 1-02

**So! Happy New Years to everyone reading this! I certainly hope you're surprised by this update, as I did mention it would be in the middle of the month. Well, because it's the new year, I said 'Why not?' and decided to post this lovely chapter for you all today. Based on location, this might've been released on NY Day, or, in my case, NY Eve. Either way, enjoy!**

" _Give them some form of credit; most have fallen into despair after a journey like that. Be thankful that they are the minority that haven't."_ ~Unknown

* * *

The Champion couldn't stop shifting their gaze at every different sound that didn't seem normal. It concerned Blake, Jaune, Nora, and Ren to a certain degree, while the other four were either dismissive or disgusted. The gloves would spark orange for a few seconds, and then dimmed after nothing else happened.

Could one blame it? Maybe, but that changes after fighting Wyvern after Wyvern in the sky on a floating island, where even a single slip-up would mean death. The harpies were nuisances enough, but add in the wingless guardians of the sky into the equation and then a Blood Moon on top of that, and then one begins to question how such creatures breed and mature so quickly while slaughtering the rest of them.

The paranoid feeling was amplified, mainly from the fact that the Champion was in an enclosed space, and such spaces caused disasters – it was how the Destroyer had the ability to catch everyone off-guard that night. Although, it did have to thank Red and every other deity up there for giving it the ability to see through walls to an extent; it meant it could easily detect threats faster than the pilot or the Hunters can try.

During the flight, it was given an explanation as to what certain things are. The starter for that conversation was quite the lively one...

A few minutes into the flight, and Jaune was already looking slightly pale. The Champion was confused by this, and had to think carefully about what might cause this. Perhaps he was envenomed? No, he would've remember shooting him in the gut; an outfit like that was bound to stand out.

"Motion-sickness," Ren said.

Oh.

...in that case, it could empathize. Riding in minecarts that went only about 15 miles an hour at maximum speed was capable of generating that same feeling. The Mechanical Cart was different, as it was already leagues above the standard cart in terms of speed. Add in the ability to fire lasers and utterly obliterate anything stupid enough to step in front of the deathtrap, and a little motion-sickness was a very acceptable trade-off.

That was until it obtained wings, and after that, a mount capable of flight. It made traveling so much easier – and cathartic, depending on the situation.

Speaking of situations, Jaune was holding in his lunch a lot longer than most, and then recovered after glowing white for a few seconds.

Which reminded the Champion of a conundrum it was pondering about during the encounter with them.

"Ren...I have been...curious...about something," it said.

"What is it?" he asked, intrigued.

"How did...Nora...survive the...Nebula shot...at her?"

"That was my Aura, creepy guy!" the person in question responded.

"Aura? Never...heard of it."

Retinazor and Spasmatism would be scared at how fast every eye turned to look at the Champion. It was faster than teleporting – and it knows how fast that is!

"How have you never heard of Aura?" Jaune asked in disbelief. "I barely know a few things about it!"

"Situations...I was...thrust into...didn't...demand any...questions," it replied.

"Then how were you able to move that fast?" White said, becoming livid. "How did you fire those blasts of energy? The spears? The swords?! The – You get the point!" She got up and marched over to the figure, ignoring Blake's pleas of peace. "There is no way you could've done any of those things without ANY knowledge about Aura! So!" White started poking the breastplate the Champion wore. She spoke with each poke: "Explain! How! You! Did! All! Of! Those! ThingsAAAAAAAH!"

The last attempted poke was stopped short; the figure had enough of White's demanding attitude, and grabbed her wrist. Because of the gauntlet's properties, it activated it's Solar powers; though it wouldn't burn White because it didn't create a weapon, its heat could be felt by the girl. Red and Yellow jumped up, prepared to stop the Champion, while Bronze readied her rifle. Blake was about to stop the trio, but...

"What, do you think you're some sort of Ice Queen?" the figure spoke without hesitation.

All parties stopped dead in their tracks. White was shocked at the quick response she obtained, and was about to rebut, but was cut off by the Champion.

"Because you aren't." The tone it used wasn't reserved or slow anymore. No, it was the tone of a warrior; a combatant that has seen more bloodshed than any of the individuals inside the airship – the probable exception was Blake, with the surprise in her eyes being less than her comrades.

"I've seen true Ice Queens, Icicle: You are just a mere drop of snow in comparison. They've frozen lands solid, destroyed the lives of many individuals with nothing more than a few blizzards, and brought forth the end of days in some rare cases, where the only survivor is myself. I've slaughtered them all, brought them down to the level of their victims, and then savored their screams of heated agony as I burned them with the powers that I've fought for.

"Do you want to know how I've fought for it? With millions of monsters, swarming down upon me as they have torn through my armor and flesh, bullets and missiles flying all over the place; fire, ice, lightning, natural and unnatural powers, all tearing through the creatures of darkness that hold the things I desire to keep the people I've found safe at night. I fought to make myself stronger, and obtain the abilities and talents to make certain that none of them ever have to follow that same path."

White was shellshocked: no words would come to her defense. The Champion used nothing more than his skills, talents, abilities, and a bit of luck to arrive where everyone is now. And survived, no less! Believing that she is satisfied with the answers she wanted, it released her hand, and exhaled slowly, leaning back in the seat it occupied. White stood there for a few more seconds, processing the words she heard, turned on her heel, and went back to her seat.

"If...there's anything else...I missed..." it said, returning to it's reserved state once more. "Now...would be good...to inform me."

It was dead silent, each pair of eyes was looking at the figure in either fear, shock, empathy, sorrow, or...Nora ( _"Hindsight is 20/20; I'm very thankful for classifying anything Nora does as Nora."_ ). As the figure waited, Blake's expression lit for a second.

"What do you know about Dust?"

And confusion sets back in. Hello, lack of knowledge! My name's dumbass!

"The way...you emphasized...'Dust'...makes it...sound important, for...some...odd reason," the Champion noted. "Why?"

Blake asked White to yield one of the vials that contained the 'Dust,' in after some hesitation, said vial was procured, filled with a reddish substance.

 _'Perhaps this is what they call Dust...odd name for something so dull in appearance. But, as I've learned, looks can be deceiving,'_ the Champion thought. And it was correct; after looking at it for a few seconds, it noticed a small hum resonating from within.

"Dust," White began, "is the basis of all progress that humanity has discovered and utilized, from the simple elemental powers that are beheld onto the user, to the very machines created by many talented engineers – this Bullhead we're flying in is one such example, as it uses Dust as a propellant.

"It can even be refined into ammunition for many ranged weapons, from simple pistol rounds to bullets of a high caliber. I won't go into that because my knowledge of ranged weapons are quite minimal in practical application..."

She trailed off, mentioning something about how the Schnee's, a noble bloodline, are the largest producers and miners of the substance, and a few other topics that went above its head. However, it did began wondering how powerful those bullets would be if they were created from their hands.

 _'I won't be able to do much right now, though,_ ' it remembered. _'Until I'm either cleared or managed to remove myself from prying eyes, I'll see what I can do about obtaining some for my own purposes.'_

Resources are always in high demand when a Champion needs something. Because of their higher thought-process, they consider every possibility, and collect more than enough of a particular resource. This sociopathic activity was the healthiest in terms of survival, as it saved the Champion more times than they can count.

They caught onto a small tidbit of detail while White was explaining: Four types of Dust; Red was Fire, blue was Ice, yellow was Lightning, green was Wind. From what they can gather, those types could also merge to create different Dust combinations: 6 combinations, if they were correct.

This meant that there were numerous possibilities on what it could do with Dust. Recalling the battle many hours ago, Dust was a very volatile substance, but when used properly is where it shines the best. A substitute for magic, when necessary. Ammunition, when their guns run out of Luminite Bullets. Grenades, for those unknowing enough to leave the crystals unattended.

As it thought about this, a shudder from the airship was felt, and the figure looked around again, only to find white slabs of stone underneath the craft. They landed. Where, exactly, was unknown, but the Champion was about to find out.

* * *

Awe.

It was the only expression visible through body language that the Champion could emit as it viewed the massive building in front of it.

Beacon Academy. A school for training monster-slayers. A noble prospect, indeed; the architecture of the massive castle was best enough to impress the builders of Helios. They were travelers in a massive ship created from many materials found off of their homeworld, which died of the Crimson Plague years back. It took five-hundred platinum to hire their services to create a bustling city on his own world. Looking back now, it was well spent.

But, onto the Academy; the two teams informed the Champion that it was to meet their headmaster, as part of the report. Considering that it was the object of interest that they needed to return – alive, was the fortunate keyword missing – it followed them to wherever their headmaster was located.

It didn't ignore the stares that followed it's back. The Champion wasn't an idiot; eyes following their every move was quite the familiar experience, and a simple stare in the direction of the offenders brought them out of their stupor and had them return to whatever business they were attending to. It did hope for the place to be quiet upon arrival, but it was close to evening, so activity was quite high inside the school.

There were whispers pointed in their direction, curiosity and animosity brewed when they came into view. One group ended up getting quite familiar in some trees a couple miles away when they tried to shove it around. While smashing a window in the process.

"Can you please not cause any more damage before we reach the headmaster's office, please?" White pleaded.

"Why would...I...be involved...in...something petty...like this?" it replied. "As...far as I...am concerned...I was...never here..."

At one point, they all reached an elevator, and stopped in their tracks. It takes a lot for the Champion to get confused about something; this succeeded.

"...um...what's wrong...?" it asked.

Red – the girl wearing the color, not the Creator – sheepishly turned around, and said, "How are we all supposed to fit on the elevator?"

Until today, it never felt so sympathetic to a floor before. Mainly because it never was on the kickoff side of a faceplant of stupidity. Apparently, today's the day in which everything the Champion knew about gets flipped upside down, and meet a bunch of strangers to help them go on a journey to become a Prince of a town called...what town's the closest to Beacon?

"Ruby, you dolt!" White scolded. "Why don't you think these things through?!"

"Well-I-uh..." Ruby stammered.

"...Look...we alternate...on who uses...the elevator," it suggested. "I...use it after...you four do...so there...isn't any fast...moves pulled."

"Can't you do your super awesome teleporting powers or something?" Nora asked.

"...And...possibly cause...hostility towards whoever...is up there?"

"He has a point, Nora," Ren agreed.

"...alright, but nothing funny!" White stated, pointing at the Champion. Has she forgotten what she heard earlier? And earlier than that, too? It took a few seconds for them to reach the top, and the elevator returned. Entering the cramped space, the Champion pushed the arrow pointing up.

The doors closed, and then...nothing happened. A beep was heard, and the figure looked at the red light that said 'OVERWEIGHT PASSENGERS PLEASE GET OFF THE ELEVATOR.'

"...Are...you...fucking...serious?" it deadpanned. Looking up to see the hatch, it opened the hatch and shot out an orange hook at the wall many feet above the elevator. Latching on with success, it pulled the Champion out of the elevator and onto the wall. It then turned around, and fired a purple hook opposite. The Champion repeated this, with four different hooks powered with galactic energies, climbing up the shaft of the elevator.

It reached the top, and waited for JNPR to stop gawking at the spectacle and ride the elevator. After the elevator stopped, the Champion dropped in, and entered the room.

* * *

It was something different, that was for certain; a constant ticking sound was heard, and looking up, there were gears spinning in the ceiling. It appeared rustic, but also nostalgic. Steampunker would love it here, as it had the things she enjoyed. But it wasn't that thought that made it nostalgic; it was the meaning behind the gears above, ticking away. In fact, it actually made the Champion relax, as it remembered a phrase said by Red before appearing in the world for the first time:

Time heals all wounds.

And this was no different.

Two people opposite of the Champion listened intently to team RWBY's report, and stood aside as JNPR took the point to add in theirs as well. It was after all this that the man in the chair took notice of the figure.

"Hello there," the man started. "Would you like a seat?" He motioned to a chair opposite of his desk. It didn't seem too cushy, or out of place, but it did seem a bit odd that it appeared out of nowhere.

Taking this into consideration, the figure walked over to the chair, and did a quick inspection upon getting closer. No traps, no knives, or anything that could cause bodily harm. It checked for any strings. Nothing. Pressure plates? Nada. And thanks to some wire-cutters hidden in its hands, it couldn't find anything that would cause damage in which it couldn't reach with the laser drill. Carefully, it took a seat. It was comfortable...

"Now, you might be quite confused as to why my students here detained you suddenly, and without any warning," the man began. "Actually, one moment: Teams RWBY and JNPR, you are excused."

"But sir-" White began.

"You are dismissed," the woman to the man's left repeated, which caused the eight Hunters to turn around and leave the office. It looked like one, but appearances can be deceiving.

"So, let's begin with introductions," the man began once the elevator descended. "I am Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy. To my left is my co-worker and deputy headmistress, Professor Glynda Goodwitch. Considering that we are in a place of confidentiality, anything that you say here will not leave this room. Can you please remove your helmet, and give us your name?"

 _'If this is Blake's boss, then he can be trusted. But, to make sure that our trust is placed in good hands...'_ "How...can I know...that I...can trust you both?" the Champion challenged.

Ozpin was silent at this. Possibly in thought, but who knows, he could be stumbling for a satisfactory answer. Glynda was peeved at what the figure asked, but held her tongue, waiting for her boss' response.

"In this world, no matter what you've done or haven't done, and what you hurt and have been hurt by, remember this: Time heals all wounds," Ozpin recites.

The Champion froze. The very statement that only Champions of Terraria know of, passed down by Redigit, the Creator himself. Was Ozpin was one of them? If he was, then this would end badly if the Champion didn't say something right.

"Who told you that?" it asked.

"Someone by the name of Redigit, I believe his name was."

 _'Either he's a mind-reader, or he actually is a Champion. But if he can read minds, I wonder how much of an idiot White is, and how those two should start **************************** in front of me.'_ The figure waited for a second for Ozpin's reaction. Either a good poker face, or he isn't bluffing.

"Who was the first person that met you in this world?"

"My mother, of course. I was 3 when I can truly remember seeing her for the first time."

"With that in mind, what were their names?"

"Personal information: and they're dead, in case you're wondering."

What's the first item you found?"

"A stick that had fallen off a tree; it wasn't sturdy, or anything, but I felt invincible holding it."

"...Do you know what the Corruption is?"

"The Grimm continue to plague this world; we try to protect it to the best of our ability, but many still fall."

"I can only assume that's a 'maybe.' What about the Hallow?"

"Are you referring to Dust?" Glynda asked.

"Doesn't matter. What about the Impending Doom?"

"I...don't follow. What is that?" Ozpin pondered, quite confused.

The Champion was about to respond, but the moon outside answered their question: It was shattered, quite irreparable.

Broken Moon. No Moon Lord. No Impending Doom.

This also explained why the Celestial Sigil's were nowhere to be found inside their inventory. They all turned to dust, and not the energy type. The type of dust that is always an annoyance.

"...What did you do?" it asked, now enraged.

"Wha...what do you mean?" Ozpin said, more confused than ever.

"The moon, you fool; what did you do to the MOON?!" the Champion shouted, pointing at the celestial body in all of their hatred and anger.

Glynda barely took note of their words, only their emotion, and was about to retaliate with their riding crop. Luckily for both sides, Ozpin intervened.

"It appears as though you truly are from that universe, then," he said. "Not many people would react so badly to our moon's...condition, unless they've never seen it before. Even then, their reaction would be quite palpable.

"Red's, however, was almost like yours, except his was more confused than angry. I did explain to him that our world was like this upon our rise from dust, and after allowing him to explore and inform, Red was quite calm and understanding. He told us that we were lucky to not suffer by his failure's hands, and left us with a parting gift...an odd one at that," Ozpin trailed off, pondering something.

"Parting gift? What do you mean by that?" the Champion inquired.

"Well, from what we can tell," Glynda resumed, after taking a breath to calm herself. "is that the gift is somewhat reminiscent of an old piggy bank, the one's you give to children so they can learn about managing their money during their lives. It was an odd gift, as Professor Ozpin says, but it only became weirder when Red told us that it can summon a useful companion for storage.

"We didn't know how to call it forth, as he left shortly after giving it to the Professor. I've tried numerous ways to make it work, but all I've succeeded in getting was a migraine."

"Well, maybe I can try." it stated.

"Perhaps, but you still have a deal to uphold," Ozpin replied.

"Not so fast, 'Professor;' if I was to believe you, that Redigit himself visited this world, what was he wearing? Because only those that truly met him know exactly what he wields," the Champion shot back.

"A deep shade of violet armor, from the greaves all the way to his helmet. There were traces of gold on his pauldrons, gauntlets, breastplate, and wings, which gave the appearance of a cape," he recalled.

"...either you bullshitted me right there, or you actually have met the Creator. However, judging from how you described his appearance, I'd say you were spot on the platinum," the Champion remarked. "Because of this, I can trust you both to the fullest. I'll do as you have requested, as I am a man of my word."

That being said, the man raised his hands towards the helmet he wore, and twisted it slightly to the left. A small pop was heard, as the black-and-white headpiece was lifted off his body, and allowing his short, unkempt brown hair to breathe in the new air. His face wasn't anything too special, as the look was quite common on this world; the things that separated the man from the rest were a few scars. The first was a long, jagged line going down from his cheekbone to his chin, barely grazing by his mouth. The second were four scratches that sliced through, going from the forehead down to his upper lip, perpendicular to the first scar. The final, more notable one was a large, white dot just underneath his right eye. Judging from the angle of the dot, which was wider on the right side, the man possibly got shot by a bullet of a high caliber rifle. How he survived that piqued the Professor's curiosity.

"As I have said before," the man, whose baritone, echoing voice rang louder than the gears above, "I am a man of my word, and I show you who I am. My name is Johnathan Osborne; I am the Terrarian Champion of the dead world Amirokal. It is a pleasure to meet you both. I have been asking you both questions before I even could trust you with this knowledge, and in my opinion, that doesn't seem fair. If you need to know anything, ask away."

"I have one thing that was bothering me," Glynda started. "Those questions you were asking: were they to determine if you weren't alone on Remnant?"

"It's...possible. Though...what's Remnant?" John replied, his calm, analytical tones returning.

"Remnant is the world you happen to be on now," Ozpin explained. "This world is separate from the...Terrarian, I believe you called it...world you've lived on yourself. Which leads to my next question, why did you say your world was destroyed? Did the Grimm destroy it there?"

"No Grimm...Red was correct...in this regard...Amirokal...was destroyed...by other forces... of Darkness. To be...completely fair, though...the end...was quick for...the world. I...don't believe...there was much...suffering...during that time." he paused. "Anything else?"

"Do you know anything else about this world?" Ozpin inquired.

"No...I am...a foreigner...of...this world...it appears," John stated. "I...barely know of...Dust, Aura, and...Grimm. Let alone...what anything is."

"Very well, that leads to my next question, which is an offer." the headmaster said, smirking slightly.

"Professor, you can't just simply-" Glynda argued.

"How would you like to be a teacher here?" he finished.

Neither of them expected the Champion to chuckle. It was almost as if the man found the situation funny.

"Me? A...teacher, you said? Wouldn't...that raise alarms? Especially against...whoever else wields...power here?" John asked.

"Do you have another option? One I haven't thought of, perhaps?" Ozpin wondered.

"...as a matter of fact, I do," the Champion responded. "Back on my world, I've learned how to survive off of many different things. I gained different traits because of it, and have learned to always be over-prepared for every situation. I've had to work alone, and as much help as I got from the friends I've made, I've had to fight alone as well. This won't be any different. However, judging from your school here, you gather up jobs for your students to complete, right?"

"That's correct," Glynda replied.

"Then allow me to do the jobs your students can't. They may be dependable when you need them, but what about the missions you have that they weren't able to complete? Or the ones they won't even think about trying? It's a bit of a 'Scratch my back, I scratch yours.' type of deal: I do the jobs you aren't able to convince your students to complete; you help me with obtaining the knowledge of this world." John proposed. "And even if you don't accept, I'll be able to figure something out quickly. I'm quite resourceful when I need something done, and I can always find someone else to work for."

Never let it be said that Ozpin is always a calm figure. He's human, after all; he felt every emotion during his life and Hunter career, faced many foes, and is still standing after the last blade was sheathed.

But Johnathan...he was an enigma in every single cell of his body. Ozpin wasn't a fool; the posture the armored figure had was one of veiled extreme caution; he saw it after the Terrarian's tone changed after mentioning Red in front of him. The man was ready for a fight, and if it ever broke out, Ozpin had no doubt in his mind that the Champion could easily fight his way out of the Academy and escape to who knows where. If this man fell into the hands of the Queen...

"No." Ozpin didn't even complete that thought to realize that allowing the Terrarian to fall into her hands spelled disaster. "You've driven a hard bargain, but you got yourself a deal."

"Well then, it'll be good to work alongside you..." John stuck his hand out to meet Ozpin's in a firm handshake. "Professor."

* * *

 **You have no idea how hard it was to not write an A/N on the top of the page. I did that frequently back then, and not doing it now somewhat throws me off my grove. However, it won't stop the writing.**

 **Now we have a name for our dear Champion of Terraria, whom is quite the war-torn person from just two chapters alone. And in case you're wondering, there won't be any flashback chapters about what he went through; the story will be mainly focused on him, with the other characters of RWBY making appearances. Because of what the Champion went through back on his world, you can be certain that he knows who's truly good and evil. But even that can deceive him; after all, he did react badly to the team's offering when they first met, so there can be some discrepancies and false-positives running amok with his perception. (Yes, I did double-check that word spelled weirdly; it is correct, and it did confuse me as well when reading it aloud.)**

 **There's also the fact that in many AU's, stories, and the like, there are characters that become students or teachers. But we've never heard of a character striking a deal with anyone to become something of an equal to the opposite party; hence, this AU.**

 **Finally, the thing that people might get concerned about: Johnny won't be a Gary Stu. He has his own shit to deal with; paranoia, sociopathic tendencies, the Itch (will be explained next chapter), and PTSD. And though Terrarians are immortal, this is Hardcore Terraria characters here; they can't age, are immune to most illnesses, have magical powers, etc., and are very hard to kill in his case of the game. But once he dies, he stays dead. I won't write Johnny back to life, or do some random magical voodoo bullshit to prevent his death; the dead stay dead this time.**

 **Also, this wasn't the original piece. What I had in mind was a lot more stupid than usual, so I scrapped it and made both the Terraria and RWBY world's separate in terms of content, but also merged. Johnathan will be able to craft a few things because of his knowledge and soon to be accessibility to Dust, but that goes to an extent. And because of the shortage of Dust thanks to a certain group of misguided people, you can be certain that someone's going to do something about it.**

 **Spot a reference? Let me know in a review! Many of them will be obscure, so it'll take some searching to figure them out. Find enough of them, you might get a reward!**

 **This is TehUnoman, and stay tuned for the next chapter!**

 _ **Time of completion: 31/12/2015**_


	3. 1-03

_You think of me as fearless? I'm have my own nightmares to face, and the big one that haunts me is the one that resides among us. ...I wish it was that_ Demon _, but fate is not that kind to me. ~Unknown, to his allies._

* * *

John never figured out when he began humming Paint it Black; when he thought about it, it was probably when two Goliaths romped in during a battle against five Deathstalkers, three Taijitus, and 83 Creeps. By the time the song finished in his head, the trees that surrounded him, creating a large fog of war because of the proximity between each trunk, were indeed painted black. But that wasn't the worst of the end result: fires rampaged on the plants, the Solar energy carving through the girth of the woods. Splinters, small and large, littered the ground, where devastating attacks from both the Champion and the Grimm went astray from their intended targets. And the champion himself, standing in the middle of the carnage, looking no worse for wear.

This was all just another day in the life of the Emerald Forest, after all.

John sat on a trunk of a felled tree – he lost count when he hit the thousands back on Amirokal, but this was the 27th, if memory served correctly, on Remnant – inspecting his sword; the Terra Blade. Back before the Moon Lord made his presence known, the Terra Blade was the strongest weapon against all foes; not even the overgrown weed or the ancient construct were able to fend off the blade of the balance. It may have lost precedence since the Last Prism was given to him, but it, alongside the Lunar Gauntlet's powers, was a go-to weapon, when absolutely necessary.

Taking out a silk rag, he began polishing the pulsating green blade, removing the Grimm blood off of the sword. It has been some time since the Terra Blade has seen action, as many other weapons took the interest of the Champion, so since he entered Remnant, John decided to take better care of the weapon.

As he cleaned the blade, the Champion began going over the objectives he was given by Ozpin: (1), Survive against the Grimm as you travel to an abandoned temple. (2), Collect something important – from what he heard, it wasn't chess pieces. (3), Head to the cliffside that rises above a ravine.

Seemed simple enough. At least, if he wasn't being monitored.

Then again, the Champion couldn't blame them; he was an anomaly, a new player in a game running well over the past few centuries, with tools that can undermine one, many, or all sides if he saw fit. A man wielding that kind of power makes you a prime target by these sides, whether it be for allying with the anomaly, destroying it, or taking control over it.

The former, John can work with. The other two, well...the display he put on does say a lot about their chances.

He figured this out thanks to his wire cutters, which, surprisingly enough, are able to trace Dust Lines, which ran similarly to the Wires he utilized constantly. There was a camera at his 4:30 position, and he kept it observing the battle of impossible odds. And as much as John was reassured that his skills wouldn't be displayed to the students, his first desire was to smash the cameras upon encountering them.

He was deep in thought, and almost cut himself with the blade, had he not felt the rag fall apart in his hands. _'That was far too close for comfort,'_ John thought. _'Best get to that temple now, wherever it might be.'_

Was he lost? The Cell Phone he had said otherwise. And that was almost bad, considering that he was almost caught with the device, while transferring data from the Scroll he was given by Professor Ozpin, by none other than White, who was actually called Weiss Schnee. She was curious as to what he was doing, and after giving her a semi-bullshit excuse about figuring out the Scroll's functions, that was dropped immediately. What John didn't expect was for her to apologize for her actions against him, which did take a lot out of her, from what he could tell. Once she left, the transfer was done, and the Champion immediately trashed the Scroll in his inventory, which somehow was more bottomless than the Underworld was.

The forest was thick, though, so trying to find a temple in here was harder than finding the Temple in the Jungle. Luckily, because it is exposed to the sky, a bird's eye view would be beneficial.

* * *

"Note to self," John deadpanned. "Don't insult a man who can cage Grimm easily."

Earlier, he said that it was quite unlikely that he could break a sweat down in the Emerald Forest, because the Grimm weren't proving too difficult a task in front of a portly man. What he found was that five seconds upon landing in said forest, he was hounded down by who knows how many Grimm. After the seventh encounter of this madness, the Champion began plotting the torture of that man on one of his many back-burners.

A bird's eye view in trying to find the temple was, in fact, a good idea. It would get him away from being possibly cornered again, and find said temple a lot quicker.

Sure, he found the temple he was looking for. The only downfall was that a swarm of Nevermores decided that he'd be good for lunch. That portly man would be the face of the next poster John decided to begin making – which involved him actually ripping the face off of the guy to begin with.

Landing in the center of the temple, the Lunar Gauntlets began glowing a light purple. Taking careful aim, the Champion began firing Nebula Blazes at the murder of crows. The sounds of pained caws and explosions were very cathartic to the Terrarian.

"'You'll know what the artifact is when you see it.' Really helpful, old man..." John muttered. There wasn't anything on the pedestals, nothing on the ramparts of the columns, or anything behind the temple. Popping a cork off a golden potion, he chugged the mixture in one go. Immediately, something sparkled beneath him. Fortunately, the plate he stood on was removable, and was able to gain access to whatever was within.

The object was...an amulet of an interesting design and make. Grabbing it out of the crevice, the Champion began inspecting it. The base and chain was a mix between Titanium and Platinum, infused with Dust of an unknown type. Judging from how it simply bounced when thrown towards the ground at 90 miles an hour, it appears to have the ability to create a shield around it.

Engraved in the center of the amulet appeared to look like a heart, but split down the middle, and plateaued at the top and sides of the heart. Flipping it over, the symbol engraved on it was a snowflake with a crescent moon on one side of it, the fragments of said moon on the other side of the flake.

What happened next was quite the disturbance: Flipping it in the same direction didn't bring up the first symbol, but a different one. A tree stood tall and proud, with what appeared to be a gust of wind blowing through the leaves, water dripping from the branches. John flipped it back to the snowflake, and then again to the tree, in utter confusion. This wasn't an illusion; he's faced illusions before, against many invading Champions, and trained himself to prepare for any situation.

Shoving aside paranoia, as the amulet didn't prove a threat yet, he flipped it again. A sun, glowing brightly onto the ground, a cloud moving away from the ball of fire. The greenery was shooting upwards, enraptured by the glow of the light. When he flipped it again, it returned to the heart.

Nodding once, John knew this was the artifact Ozpin wanted him to find. But judging by the way the first engraving was dimly glowing, there was more to this amulet than the headmaster was letting on.

 _'I'll figure this one out on my own, if blows come to blows,'_ the Champion affirmed to himself. _'However, I doubt that Ozpin would be faulty in terms of-'_

What he was about to think of next was interrupted by a whistling noise coming from behind him. John dashed to his right, just as an obsidian-colored arrow flew past him, with the intent of piercing his back. He extended the SDMG and aimed into the treeline, his senses going haywire. Then, the camera nearby him shut off instantly.

 _'Someone cut the wires. But who?'_

Silence. Then, figures burst from the treeline, all around him. They weren't Grimm, but they were humanoid in shape. John took a quick glance at each one; the most common theme was a symbol of a red wolf's head and three scratches going through it's head and out the jaw, and each uniformed figure wore what appears to be a recreation of a Grimm masking over their faces, with one of the masks covering their entire face.. The Hunter's potion he drank earlier today gave them a black outline, like before. However, deep in the back of his head, an old Itch began to fester once more.

"Hand over that amulet, human," the fully masked figure demanded. "And we may make your death quick and painless."

The Itch began building. It was hard to concentrate.

"Calling me a human, are we?" John said quickly. He unfurled his wings from behind his cloak, displaying them to the uniforms. "Change that statement, and we may yet be friends."

Their silence bought him time to stop the Itch. But it was short-lived.

"...Take him in, too!" the supposed leader barked.

His heart-rate began to slow down. They charged forward, brandishing weapons of monstrous intent. Their outlines turned red; a very, bright, red. The twitching he felt stopped. He stopped.

" **I see a red door, and I want it painted black...No colors anymore...I want to PAINT IT BLACK!"**

* * *

White.

How ironic.

"Urgh..." John moaned in pain. He shielded his eyes, or tried to, based on the fact that he couldn't move his arms. Or legs. Or any part of his body, besides his head. So, blinding white became his best friend until his vision cleared up. It did take a few minutes, after all.

From simply looking around, he thought the place he was at was an infirmary of sorts. Vials to his left, filled with unknown substances. An IV drip, leading down to his arm. His armor, hung neatly on a mannequin-

 _'MY ARMOR!'_

Panic. Who saw his form? Where was he? Did they confiscate all his weaponry? What day was today? Answers were needed, but first, he needed to escape his bindings.

As he began struggling, his first thought was that his bindings were much looser than before, as they came off with ease. He ripped the drip out of his arm, wincing for a moment before removing the medical devices placed on his body, and sprinted to his armor.

Then he stopped as he felt another presence behind him. Turning around slowly, knowing that he was defenseless, his eyes landed on...Ozpin?

 _'...I'm sorry, but now I no longer know what's going on...'_

"Hello, Johnathan. Sleep well?" the headmaster said, an invisible toothy grin on his face. "Because you have a lot of explaining to do." He pointed out the window.

When John looked outside, he saw the Emerald Forest...or, the 1% that was left of it, outside the school.

"...oh..." John stated. "...for the record, Professor, that was entirely their fault..."

"Do you mean that floating head of a White Fang member?"

 _'Ok, what in the Underworld did I even do after THAT?!'_

* * *

 **Now, I haven't responded to your reviews as of yet. So, because of my laziness, I'll get onto that immediately.**

 **Named Reviews:**

 **Tehpootisman: Thank you for welcoming me into the club, good sir! And more of the story is what you will get.**

 **Catacus: I'm glad you like the idea!**

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Unanimously: Asking nicely isn't necessary; I was bound to make more of the story anyways. But I appreciate your kindness.**

 **Guest: She's an Icicle, man! Diplomacy isn't her family's 'sharp' point to begin with...that was terrible, but I love it.**

 **IN ANY CASE! I modified the updating schedule to possibly once or twice a month. There will be a confirmed chapter release on the fifteenth of each month; as for the second chapter of the month, it depends on how fast I can update. If I'm able to get one before the end of the month, then yay for everyone! If not, don't fret! It just means the quality of that chapter will be improved for the next fifteenth that'll come up.**

 **This will also mean that I'll be going through the older chapters to improve their quality as well during that time; I won't be doing it this early, however, so I can utilize my time wisely for each chapter.**

 **Shorter chapter this time around, mainly because I didn't want to put in too much exposition here, as it would get very droll for me to write out. And it would then be half filler, half action, and although filler is necessary in some cases, it won't be the case here. Which means that after this chapter, there will be time skips aplenty.**

 **However, because I just announced it, it has been a day after 1-02; Johnny learned Weiss' name, updated his Cell Phone to include the functions of a Scroll, and that's kinda about it. And at the beginning of each chapter, I'll inform you how many days have went by since the previous chapter aired. Some chapters will be immediately after the previous one; others may be days, weeks, months, or years after.**

 **Now, time for my exhausting rant of life. If you want to skip it, then that's fine. After the rant, the last thing there will be the sign-off and the date of completion.**

 **So, moving sucks. Majorly. I'm having to deal with a shitty internet connection again, so no streaming right now! YAAAAAY-not really. It's the only possible thing I can do to try and get an income right now, I'm flat broke. Mainly because I just graduated high school, and immediately after that, having to help my dad go through depression.**

 **I'm just hoping that tomorrow brings forth the modem that brings happy speeds to the Internet-I'm having to hop on an Extender that hops on a WAP, which has shitty speeds. It's better than nothing, at least.**

 **However! I'm going to be auditioning my voice for a project that's possibly going to happen within the next few months: Aftertale. Yes, it's unoriginal. Look it up on YT – Aftertale Auditions (1/3), it might be the first result. I'm not sure. I won't say anything more, though – lol – as that information is for you guys to find on your own. It'll be awesome, though!**

 **RANT OVER!**

 **This is TehUnoman, and I'll see you guys next month or sooner, if my internet gets laid...**

 **DATE OF COMPLETION: 10/1/16**


	4. 1-04

**So. Those new RWBY episodes...hm. Never actually thought that the CRWBY would actually go down that path...but I'll ride along, because it's getting a lot more interesting! Also, the rule with answering reviews – guest and accounted reviews – will be posted every three chapters, unless the review is...interesting enough...to warrant an immediate response. Such reviews will be posted here, so there won't be any curious heads hunting for it in the reviews section.**

 **And, for all of your future concerns with how my numbering of chapters work, the system of #-## for chapters is titled as Arc-Chapter, and the length of each chapter varies between arcs. For the first arc, however, I made an estimate of 12 chapters for this one, somewhat like a development phase for Johnathan, and his interactions between the teams, staff, select villains, Steeldick – whoops, Ironwood – and other characters. After that, though, I don't know how many chapters will be in each arc.**

 **Enough of this; the rest of your scheduled A/N will be at the bottom of this chapter.**

* * *

 _'I'll only say this once; I might've done fucked up...'_ Johnathan thought as he saw the massive crater that replaced most of the Emerald Forest nearby Beacon Academy. Ozpin burning holes through his back with his eyes wasn't helping the confusion he was experiencing right now.

"So, mind explaining to me how you caused that?" the headmaster asked. His demeanor was calm, but his tone said 'Give me an answer I don't like, and I'll string you up faster than you can say Redigit.'

"...Well, to be honest..." the Champion started, and looked over at the iced head on the counter. "I believe that the head over there held around a good...60% of a reason that caused my blackout. I can't quite recall what happened down there, but judging the size of the crater, and your expression, something huge went boom."

"That's an understatement; you took out explosives, set them all over the forest, and detonated them all when you returned to Professor Goodwitch and myself – that head in tow – and gave us the amulet before you fell flat on your face." Ozpin paused. "At least that was spared."

"Ok, that does seem like something I would do, but even if that was the case, I'm not dumb enough to try something like that," John stated. "I respect Nature, and I use its resources for my purposes, and begin the cycle once more. I'm not – "

"Does the phrase, 'Johnny is a broken pile of madness in his head,' mean anything to you?" Ozpin interrupted, causing the Champion to freeze in his tracks.

"...yeah." He stared at his armor, his breathing heavy. There was one other time that someone said that to him; the Dryad. She was the only one that could have seen the turmoil going on in his head – mainly because of her age. Five hundred years of living does give you a few perks, after all – and had to explain it to a few others, namely the Nurse, Tinkerer, Demolitions, and Gun Trader. Unfortunately for her, the Champion heard the rephrasing she used, and that stuck. "Johnny is a broken pile of madness in his head." After fifty invasions by other Champions, it stuck.

"If I'm free to ask..." John nodded. "...what does it mean to you?" Ozpin asked, seemingly worried by his reaction to the statement.

"It's..." he hesitated. "It's a...condition. I've faced numerous threats...many, threats...deeming my home...a place...for their next...conquest," the Champion began, his speech returning to his calculated, baritone tones he became used to. "They sometimes...had equipment, better...than my own...when...I first...began." His eyes turned to Ozpin, unbearable pain evident in his irises. "The first time I...killed...one of them...I...I just...broke down. I...I didn't know...what I did. Originally...the monsters I faced...were actual monsters. There was no...reasoning with them, so...there wasn't any pain...for me. Mentally, that is.

"I did get...harmed, by their...assault. I survived, and...pushed forward. Some monsters, though...were friendly, and...didn't fight. I think...that was what...I enjoyed the most. Meeting...monsters, that acted...like people. Kind, friendly, and...bearable. But, other Champions...coming to my world...trying to...take it over? I...I couldn't think. Couldn't...breathe. I...I fought back, and...I killed them all." His face became blank. "I killed them...but the first one's face...it was one of...shock and...surprise...anger...and fear...the poor kid...all they wanted...was a place...of their own. But...the warning the Guide...had given...I panicked, and..." John couldn't continue.

Ozpin stood there, listening carefully. It was known to a select few that he made more mistakes than any man, woman, or child could have made in their lifetime. Being the Wizard, it made sense. But judging from the fact that the Champion told him more about his world, many mistakes he did make seemed...insignificant. Inwardly, Ozpin snorted in humor; the Champion met a Wizard as well, back before his world shattered. He put it on a back-burner to tell him this revelation at another date.

As much as he hated the infirmary's chairs, Ozpin sat down in one of them, across from Johnathan. "You don't have to say any more, Mr. Osborne," the headmaster reassured. "What you did back then, it can't be changed, but what you can do now is, as you stated earlier, keep moving forward.* Don't let your mistakes be the things that define you; instead, have them define the path to a better definition of who you are."

The Champion didn't respond verbally; instead opting to nod to the statement made.

"That being said, I believe that your end of the deal is now upheld, thanks to your...unorthodox delivery...and quick execution. As such," he paused, and pulled out a folder from within his jacket. "I give you your papers, with help from a friend of mine. You're officially a citizen of Vale, and a Huntsman to boot." John took a moment to observe the documents; 29 years old, brown eyes, 6'9", 251 lbs., O+, and a few other miscellaneous documents. Putting those aside, he looked over his Hunter's ID. "You've been marked as a double S-class Hunter, because of your skills, abilities, and tactical prowess. My friend has agreed to this without question, surprisingly enough, after viewing you in action for himself," Ozpin continued. "He has, however, asked for one thing."

"And that is?" John pondered.

"A meeting. Between you and him. I know of your distrust in others upon meeting them for the first time, and all things considering, it's not misplaced." Ozpin said, getting a fierce glare from the Champion. "However, all things considering, it would be rude to not at least thank the man who helped you become someone that would check out OK in this world, should anyone investigate."

The Champion wasn't one for remaining to a select tactic when it clearly wouldn't work for all future encounters. If anything, it would simply cause more problems than solutions. If a tactic did work, and worked almost every time when testing it, then it wouldn't be a problem. There was a time in which he visited – not invaded – a world of another Champion, who wanted to test out a tactic that involved shooting cannons at a giant plant. Only difference is, they shot explosive bunnies.

It was ridiculous enough that it actually worked the first time it was used. However, after the first time, it was deemed unreliable, and was scrapped. Plans like these were called FBED, or Fluffy Bunnies of Explosive Doom. Right now, running away was a FBED waiting to happen.

"Alright...when is your friend arriving?" John asked.

* * *

Let it be known that the Champion wasn't a fan of armies.

Sure, there is a certain strength in numbers, and battles against the enemy were a lot easier, should the opponent be quite the challenge alone.

However, given the fact that the Champion faced them all, ranging from the annoyances that is the goblin army, to the panic that is the Martian army, the jolly jogs of fear of the Frost Moon's army, to the terror of the Eclipse itself, this fact became pretty clear to Ozpin and Glynda.

During the time in-between the arrival of General James Ironwood and his fleet to Beacon Academy, John was busy rebuilding the scarred Emerald Forest that he caused – unintentionally, he keeps telling the headmistress, to no avail. Because his memory was eidetic, it took a few days to reconstruct the floor, and a whole week for the trees to regrow to their former glory. Because of the explosions, most of the Grimm that remained were hiding away, clearly cautious of the armored figure rebuilding the land. When questioned by the students, Ozpin said that there was a small error in deployment packages, and caused the massive crater in the forest; this dropped the concern, as many pilots did make coordinate errors when delivering payloads to certain locations.

The people that knew, however, were now a little more terrified of the Champion, as they have no idea on what else it was capable of.** With the exceptions being Ozpin and Glynda, of course.

A ding signaled the arrival of the general. _Time to face the music,_ John thought.

First appearances are one of the few times in which you get to assess a new piece of the intricate game set in place; the General of the Atlesian Armed Forces, James Ironwood was one that has seen his fair share of combat from the first glance. Graying hair, a small metal strip over his right eyebrow on his otherwise sharpened face, a white overcoat over his gray undercoat, black sweater, and red tie. A clean outfit, reminding him of Ozpin's own, with the only anomaly being a white glove over his right hand. His wire-cutters told him the rest of the story; his right arm was cybernetic.

He didn't pay attention to the small banter between the trio, as from listening to the first few words, it seemed like a common thing for them. James turned his head towards the Champion, who was wearing his armor once more, and took a moment to reel back in surprise.

"I...assume that you are this Johnathan Osborne character I've heard about from Ozpin?" he asked, unsure and nervous.

"That I am." His statement brought some ease to the General. "And you must be the...friend...Ozpin told me about: General James Ironwood, I presume?"

"That's correct; it's a pleasure to meet someone that is far different from the usual suspects Ozpin asks me to cover up," James began. Glynda's eyes narrowed in annoyance, while Ozpin didn't respond. "When I first heard of your talents, I thought it was a mere coincidental incident in which control over the situation was in your favor-" the Champion's stance changed slightly; clearly offended by the statement. "-but considering the situation you found yourself in, that was clearly not the case: You've fought in numerous battles before, correct?"

John had to consider his words very carefully. As much of a friend he is to Ozpin, the Champion wasn't sure on how far his trust lead, and if he would report anything to his soldiers. "I...have, General. My survival...depended on battle."

"Say no more; I understand," James said, raising his hand to stop the Champion before he could continue. _'That was...easier than expected…'_ he pondered. "Until Qrow returns, this won't be something to press."

"Indeed; for now, we have an event to plan," Ozpin intervened. "Until then, it was good seeing you, James."

"You too, Ozpin." The general took his leave. When the sounds of the elevator reaching the floor below was heard, Ozpin spoke up.

"So, that was much more simpler than expected," he deadpanned.

"I honestly thought he would've pressed an interrogation; thanking every Pinky I have ever encountered that this wasn't the case," John said, releasing a breath he didn't know he held.

"I noticed that with each passing statement of yours, your world – alongside every other Terrarian world, for that matter – grows far more stranger than ours," the headmaster replied, adopting a contemplative look. "I'm not sure if that's something to be proud of, in all honesty."

"The feeling's mutual," the Champion snarked. "However, I guess I'm now approved as a full-time Huntsman?"

"Indeed you are," Ozpin stated, grabbing a small card off of his desk. Upon being handed the piece of plastic, the Champion realized that it was an ID card: His name, height, weight, age, and a few other things were listed. At the top of the card, 'Hunter's License' could be read; next to his portrait, 'A-Class Hunter,' in bold, was printed.

"The class you have is the highest we can safely obtain without raising any suspicion from either the Council or any...unsavory individuals," Ozpin explained. "In other cases, you would've started at a B-Class license; with the General's sway, however, you start at an A-Class, with the S-Class tests available within six months. However, you need Aura to be eligible, so...Glynda, if you wouldn't mind?"

The woman in question gave an eyeroll at the suggestion, and walked in front of the Champion. His helmet tilted slightly, indicating his confusion. "What the headmaster is saying is that you need your Aura unlocked to wipe away any further suspicion," she provided. "It may appear odd, but the end result will be beneficial."

Her hand went up, towards the Champion's chest, and placed it upon his sternum. At first, nothing; then, he felt it. An odd, warm sensation, began flowing through him; it felt similar to that of the Life/Manaforce Crystals he absorbed, only...different. He wasn't sure how, though.

He heard words, the voice being Glynda's, but it echoed with the voices of his former compatriots. They...enthralled him, bringing forth tranquility in such a way that he never felt before: _**"For it is in Passing that we Achieve...Immortality: Through this, we become a Paragon of Virtue and Glory...to Rise above all: Infinite in Distance...and Unbound by Death: I release your Soul, and by my Shoulder Protect thee."**_

The feeling began traveling through every inch of his body, and began releasing old connections he thought lost. It was nirvana, the power coursing through him. Until, everything exploded. His own soul pulsated with newfound energy, reinvigorated by the releasing of old locks he never knew were in place. Magical energy flared all around, dancing and gliding freely over his armor.

Johnathan never felt more alive up until this moment.

Soon, the energy died down, and he felt his feet on the ground. Looking down, he noticed that there was a small crater where he stood in. Raising his gaze, he saw the stunned looks directed towards him, and Glynda struggling to get back up. Across the room. Oddly enough, he never felt bashful during his lifetime; now, however, the Champion couldn't stop himself.

"That...wasn't normal...was it?" he asked.

Two nods. He just had to be the exceptional character of this world.

"...I'll pay for the damages..." the Champion relented.

* * *

' _Overhead. Swing right. Sidestep, trip. Lean, bash under._ '

A select few thoughts in an incredibly fast-paced battle against some robots.

After the Aura Unlock, the Champion wanted to test this newfound power's strength and endurance, considering that normal releases were much calmer than his explosive, violent one. At first, both Ozpin and Glynda didn't agree to his train of thought. However, considering his recovery time, they relented.

Now, both are regretting allowing the Champion to have control over the difficulty settings on the robots.

Not because it was a stupid idea on the Champion's part, but more so that they might not have enough robots for him to fight.

The arena being chock-full of robotic parts lying about explained the rest.

Back on Amirokal, the fastest he'd been in a single fight was on a water-energized flying Fishron mount in the cover of night against the Moon Lord, which clocked in around 78 mph. That's about the speed he was going right now against these drones.

But it wasn't just his speed amplified because of Aura; every aspect of himself was rebuilt, and strengthened by his energized soul. His swords felt lighter, and swung at dangerous speeds; throwing objects felt deadlier, as he decapitated three drones with a single Daybreaker spear; his slight accuracy errors with his guns vanished, and became quite minimal in long-ranged attacks.

His magic, though…

No words can describe the chaos he inflicted upon the drones with a single Nebula Arcanum shot. The astral orb's size increased tenfold, with the mana drain being halved: it was like his Aura solidified his magical powers within, and widened the channels.

The last robot was actually surrendering at this point, in which the simulation was terminated immediately afterward. The Champion took the opportunity to stretch out his limbs and neck; kinks he never knew existed popped, and each one made him groan in appreciation.

"I...believe you've got enough testing done..." Ozpin said, still struggling to see the results firsthand.

"I...suppose I did get carried away with the test..." John replied, observing the fruits of his carnage. "Are the visual recordings wiped on these androids?"

"They are."

"Good, I believe I'll head up, then." A flash of pink light occurred, and the Champion was right next to Ozpin. His helmet scanned the room momentarily; "Where did Professor Goodwitch go, exactly?"

"I believe she said, 'Beacon needs heavier drinks than this garbage,' and left in the middle of your...experiment," the headmaster supplied. "At this moment, I'm starting to agree with her."

"Well, lucky for you, and everyone else on this rock; if I was in your shoes, and still had my genetics, I couldn't drink if I tried," John lamented.

Ozpin raised a brow at this revelation. "And, pray tell, why's that?"

"Any type of alcohol I drink only makes me stronger and lowers my...toughness," he explained. "The worst part is, I can't get drunk, so anything outlandish can't be drowned out with booze."

The headmaster was silent for a few seconds. Then, a fearful look appeared. "...whatever you do, DON'T! Tell Qrow anything about that fact," he demanded, pointing at the Champion's faceplate. "He will...not take it lightly."

John's hands shot straight up in the air, next to his head. "My lips are sealed."

* * *

The Champion decided to change into an outfit with a little more...discretion in mind, when wandering the school grounds and, possibly, the city. A burgundy jacket over a white T-shirt, burgundy pants, and black shoes were mild in comparison to the natural armor he wore. To keep his identity more out of the picture, he wore a black bowler hat and sunglasses***. He called in this outfit when his armor would be out of place. Luckily, it matched the academy's uniform – which John didn't realize until after he put on the outfit – by some measure, so not many people payed him any mind.

However, during the lunch hour – not needing to eat or drink was a happy miracle, but he did so under habit and possible alienation prevention – someone's gaze fell onto him, and the way they traced every cell was...unnerving. It reminded him of how other Terrarians scanned him over; this was different, though. In what way, John wasn't certain. What he did know, though, was that those eyes belonged to someone dangerous.

The moment the bell rang, heels clacked over to his seat as the other students wandered off to their classes. Two other presences were felt behind the first one, both equally as dangerous. The first, however, was more...similar to himself.

That wasn't good. At all.

"Pardon me," a woman's voice rang out. "but you seem...distracted by something." A woman sat in front of him, ebony hair, fiery eyes, and a black and white uniform – Haven Academy, if his research was correct – was her attire. A male in the same uniform colors sat next to her; gray hair, dark eyes, and a cocky grin. Then, another woman sat next to John; green hair, red eyes, same uniform colors, and an innocent look on her face.

' _Looks can be deceiving,_ ' he reminded himself.

"It's...possible," he stated, keeping his reserved tones active. "What do you...want?"

"Nothing that you could give," she began. He felt the green-haired girl reach for his pockets; instead of slapping her away, he waited for the woman in front of her continue. "But what you can do, is more important." ' _Bingo. Feign interest; there's nothing in those pockets anyways._ ' A tilt of his head was enough; the thief began searching.

"Oh? And...what can I do...for you?" he asked, leaning forward and placing his hands underneath his head. John noticed her eyes brighten slightly in surprise, and sadistic glee.

"Depending on your talents..." she paused for effect. "Anything possible. I'm looking for something of mine, and I'd like your assistance." The woman brushed her hand alongside one of his arms. On lesser men, it would be quite the tactic. John, however, wasn't an ordinary man, after all. The thieving hands became frantic in their search.

"After all," she purred. "wouldn't it be nice to be part of the new world order?" She narrowed her eyes, and a lustful smile grew on her face.

He leaned forward, surprising the woman slightly. His own twisted smile appeared, and startled her by grasping her hand. "Oh, I would like that," he growled. "But unfortunately for you, I'm not interested." He stood up immediately, releasing the woman's hand, and walked out of the cafeteria. A note was left in the thief's hand:

' **Your next theft from me will be your last; be fortunate that it isn't the case this time. Otherwise, the results will be...quite violent.** '

' _Noted threats detected. Action: Research possible identity matches. Future Action: Eliminate threats._ '

* * *

 **Urgh...that was a difficult chapter. My muse decided to finally show up before the release date, and before I have to start building a house.**

 **Yup. That's a thing.**

 **So! In the next few days, my writing schedule will be all dicked-up, so updating on the desired dates might be impossible if I'm unlucky: the possibility of releasing chapters a day late is quite high.**

 **This will also affect my stream dates as well, unless I am able to convince my friends to allow me to stream as usual, with an earlier closing date as a compromise. If not, then you might not see me in a few weeks.**

 **Until everything is good, I might not be active for a while, so I'll see you guys in a few weeks!**


	5. 1-05

"'Vale Tech Expo'?" John read aloud in his room.

This was the first thing he found browsing on the CCT computers when looking for something relaxing to do. Since the encounter with the thief, bodyguard, and the mastermind, the Champion needed something to do to keep his mind occupied for the time being.

When it came up, he delved into the article: Nothing important, it seems. Just showcases of comparisons, weapons, fusions, and the like. At the bottom, however… "VIP Tour of newer technologies given to the affluent and/or the defenders of humanity," he muttered. "Apply early; have identification ready upon arrival."

Read the fine print, they say. Bad things will come if you don't, they say.

' _At least they aren't wrong this time,_ ' the Champion thought.

He prepared another outfit this time; a burgundy overcoat and black shirt, dress pants and shoes, and trilby hat for the venture. If the VIP Tour had anything good inside, he didn't want to be traced back to the Academy or the city when walking around.

The benefit of dyeing things: you'd be mistaken for someone else.

He opted to teleport out of the room, leading to the grounds instead of using the door. Keeping hidden was key here; anyone spotting the Champion in a different outfit, and one that would connect him to a heist, would be disastrous.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't count on a certain armored ginger man taking notice of his sudden appearance outside the school, and speedy escape to the airships.

* * *

He made a new identity for himself after obtaining his Hunter's License: Chara Forsaw, a wealthy individual that has invested in the Atlesian military and the SDC many years ago, and has developed numerous policies alongside Vale's Councilmen to promote equality. Though most of the policies have been demolished by the people, some of them remain to this day.

Upon reaching the Expo and confirming his identity at the gate, the Champion was given a small square tablet that would vibrate after an hour has passed; when it did, he would have to head towards the International Technologies Booth near the top left of the Expo. If he didn't make it in five minutes, the VIP Tour would go on without him, and anyone else late.

John actually arrived fifteen minutes late to the party, so he had forty-five minutes to wander around the building and see what technologies Remnant had.

Robots, scrolls, the CCT Towers demonstration and purpose – an interesting way to keep communication alive in the world – among other things. He stayed near the booth he was supposed to go to when the buzzer went off, but in a way that it didn't look suspicious.

Also known as conversing with a few other VIPs.

As he seemed to be part of a 'riveting' conversation between a few other wealthy benefactors and Huntsmen, there were a few that looked out of place: a few Faunas, for example, were fidgety for some reason. Sure, racism was quite high, but because there were Hunters here, it shouldn't be too much of an issue. Until one of them twitched their head…

And showed a particular wolf tattoo on their shoulder.

The White Fang.

Honestly, it was hard to spot, because of the mass amounts of ink on their shoulder already, but the Champion had a keen eye for details: When that was spotted, it was now hard to not see it.

Why did they infiltrate a VIP Tour? Who knows; the Champion knew if he tried anything now, many more would notice, and his identity would be out in the world. Well, it already is; it'll just be more public than it should be. For now, he would do nothing, and see if the Tour guides will notice.

The tablet began buzzing. It was time.

* * *

Overall, he counted one-hundred heads. This tour would be quite large. Every person was pulled away into a room as a simple identity confirmation – the guides said they couldn't be too careful. The Champion knew it was paranoia at its finest: Who else would know besides someone else that had it?

Five minutes went by before he was let out. A headcount later said thirty-seven remained out of the previous one-hundred. He didn't want to know what happened to the rest that didn't come out of those rooms. The only difference was that a wiry man in a suit was on the opposite side of the room, a large smile on his face. The Champion knew better, though; the most inconspicuous people are the most dangerous.

"Hello everyone!" the man said cheerfully. He obviously was the tour guide. "For those that are wondering, we did that recent check-up so we can see who's honest in this group: those that weren't were asked to leave the premises peacefully!"

' _Lies. I smell the blood._ '

"Now, if all of you could please follow me, we'll begin the tour," the guide said, waving the group towards the doors behind him. Myself and a woman were near the front, and noticed the doors opened automatically, leading to a few rooms behind glass.

"Here, we have a few new prototypes and possible completed projects ready for mass production," the man began. "They won't be for the public eye, of course; they're designed for military and Hunter use – like this little thing here!" He lifted his left sleeve up to show...a watch…

' _Something's not right here…_ '

The man actually chuckled at the group's reaction. "Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Why is a simple watch like this so important for only all military units and Hunters to utilize?'" he said. "Well, it's not what's on the outside that counts; it's what it can do that makes all the difference in the world."

' _Now that,_ ' the Champion thought. ' _is how you take the words right out of my mouth._ '

"Allow me to demonstrate." The man ducked behind a door; seconds later, he appeared behind the glass. "Now, this right here watch is actually a miniature detonator. What does it detonate? Dust, of course!" The guide picked up a Burn Crystal and attached the watch to the crystal. His thumb pressed onto the watch's face, and waited.

*BEEP*

The moment his thumb lifted off the face, a large red ring was inside the face of the watch; it slowly shrank in size, reaching a black dot in the center of the ring.

"Now, what I just did was activate the detonator. When it activates, it sends a pulse of energy into the attached object," the guide explained. He immediately set the armed crystal onto the pedestal, and retreated towards a shielding inside the room. "With living beings, it does nothing to them; mild annoyance being the most severe side effect as of now. It also has the ability to break apart other objects in a single pulse – trees, rocks, and other nonliving objects.

"Dust, however..." he paused, and closed his eyes and plugged his ears. The room shook with the explosion; most of the next room was semi-blackened, with the guide being spared. "Dust, however, reacts slightly differently, as you all can tell," he continued. "The energy pulse actually travels throughout the Dust, and keeps bouncing inside the crystal, eventually creating the reaction needed to activate the Dust. The result is...well, as you can tell, is quite explosive."

The rest of the tour was tuned out; the Champion knew what to obtain. The watches – Chargers, as the guide called them – were fully developed, but were not to be released until testing was completed. He knew where they were, thanks to his vision, but his chances were running thin; the cause being the guide. The bastard may be wiry, but what he lacked in strength, he possibly made up for in intellect. Odds are, he was keeping a close eye on Chara, and would notify security upon lagging behind or vanishing outright.

So why not make it a goose-chase?

He stepped on his shoelace, and undid the binding it had while walking. A minute went by before he reached down and tied it back up, just as the rest of the group was rounding a corner. In one of his hands was his wire-cutters: With careful precision, he snipped each cable that the cameras were linked up to at specific points.

With the attention off him now, he drew his knife, and watched as light refracted from his body once more. It was difficult, getting used to invisibility without a middle ground to see once more. Luckily, his Aura kicked in, and he could see once more. Turning his head to the left, he found the storage room that held the Chargers, alongside...blueprints!

Perfect.

Walking slowly, he kept out of the camera's line of sight. The first two were easy to disable, as he was on a joint that connected the two to the mainframe. These ones were still active, and possibly able to detect movement and heat. Invisibility could only do so much, and disguising heat was one such thing. Movement, not so much.

It took him two minutes to reach the room. At this point, the guards were running all over the place, trying to figure out where 'Mr. Forsaw' went. He waited until the footsteps stopped echoing, and opened the door to the storage room. Wire-cutters in hand once more, he detected a few cameras on the corners of the room and a line leading towards the blueprints.

' _Possibly trapped. They're still the blueprints we need, so let's grab them and leave._ '

Five snips later, the Champion confidently strolled into the room, and grabbed the document off the wall, careful not to lose any of the information in the process. Unfortunately…

*CLANG*

' _How did we not see that pressure plate on the floor?_ '

Caged by bars, he noticed the plate immediately. It blended so well with the low light, he mistaken the dark wire leading to it as a small error. Well, now the error was on him.

Now, he could easily escape; he did have three options, after all. He could easily destroy the bars, teleport out of the room, or teleport back to Beacon altogether: His phone did much more than tell the time and hold important information.

But, the Champion decided to wait it out, and see if the guards can make it to him. Give them five minutes, and if they didn't arrive, he'd leave. Simple as that.

They didn't disappoint; exactly a minute later, around fifty men, geared up with riot-based armor and automatic weapons surrounded his cage, their fingers ready to fire when needed. And, on cue, the wiry guide showed up.

"You idiot," he began. "Did you really think that I wouldn't notice your disappearance? The moment we rounded the corner, I knew you were gone from the lack of your hat amongst the group." He took a moment to notice that the hat was gone, and no extra appendages were visible. "So you aren't Faunas, or with the White Fang, for that matter. That being said, the question is, who are you, and whom do you work for?"

The guide was smart, the Champion gave him credit for that. That's where the compliments stopped, however. Teleporting out of the room was a big no-no, as the facility was possibly locked down, and the guards waiting at every corner. As much as he was experienced at killing other people, he didn't want to make a terrifying name of himself on the first five days of his arrival.

Option three it was, then.

"I'll do you one better, Mr. …?" the Champion said, drawing out the last word for a name.

"Keleton. Lance Keleton, at your dis-pleasurable service," the man named Lance said.

' _Wow, even his name screams asshole._ ' "Mr. Keleton, I'll do you one better," the caged man resumed. "I'll call my boss right now, and hand you the Scroll when he picks up. Do you mind if I…?"

Lance's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in glee. "By all means!" he encouraged, waving a hand in the Champion's direction.

"Thank you." He pulled out his phone, and pressed a single button at the bottom, activating it's teleport function.

*WIIIIIII*

"That's the dial tone!" he said as a blue light enveloped him, whisking him back to Beacon Academy – specifically, his bedroom – but Lance didn't know this.

"What the-?! How did he?!" he snapped his head back and forth, trying to look for his missing captive in the room. "FIND HIM! HE HAS THE BLUEPRINTS!"

* * *

That was fun.

He not only knew more about how the different Kingdoms functioned on Remnant thanks to a select few booths, but John now had the ability to create Chargers under the radar. With that in mind, he stowed the document in his personal storage known as his Safe. Thanks to Ozpin and Glynda giving him a Money Trough, he could access his materials once more, and his secondary storage within. And, because of the magic held within both, no one could ever access his items without him obtaining them first.

Speaking of items…

He equipped his armor once more, and destroyed the outfit in his personal disposal unit. Somehow, that was even more bottomless than the Underworld was. John never figured out why that was the case, but he rolled with it in the end. It saved him more times than he could count.

Now, he needed Dust…sure, he could always buy it, but with how the prices were so high, even he would eventually run out of money. Which meant he had to steal it.

And who better to steal it from than the ones that stole it first?

* * *

 **Note: This may seem a little late on uploading. If you don't recall, I actually livestream on Twitch every Tuesday, and that took up all of my time today. If you don't see this as late on your end, just ignore this little thing outright!**

 **Admission time!**

 **The house frame came in today, so I'm excited to start building it up in a few days from now. Tomorrow, I might post up a few pictures of it on my DA account – the account is the same name as my FFN account, so there's no confusion – so you guys can see what it looks like.**

 **For three people, it's the perfect size, especially when two of them sleep together. I am not one of those two, for your information.**

 **Another short chapter, but honestly, it's development and setup for future chapters. Because of how quickly I completed this one, I think I can easily get through the arc with the schedule I set up for myself on limited time.**

 **And for the future! If I am somehow still writing this fic, February will be only one chapter release on the 28th/29th, because of how screwed up the month is.**

 **Expect review answers next chapter, as usual, and the Dust Thieves Heist right after!**

 **Side note: Lance Keleton was actually a fan-based character I was able to come up with on the spot. The actual form was there to begin with, the name was improvisation with the unintended help of a Tumblr user going by the name of CrashBoomBanger. Lance Keleton is actually Lance the Skeleton, who is a complete asshole that likes to be punny. I wonder what other skeleton likes being a punny guy as well…**

 **This is TehUnoman, with another chapter release, and I'll see you in the next one and/or on the weekly livestreams!**


	6. 1-06

**So...the sudden influx of reviews and people that like the story...damn. And only from...currently five – now six – chapters. Alright...I'm not complaining about that. You guys are awesome. 30 faves, 50 follows; I'm glad you all like it.**

 **Now, reviews!**

 **Catacus: 1. Glad you enjoy the story, sir or madam! 2. That gives me an idea…**

 **Ddragon: ...wow, the influx of reviews from this one alone...jesus...SOMEONE likes the story a bit. 1. Glad you like the fic, sir or madam! And, she'll get her chance to squee over his influx of weaponry. 2. I like to think that at least Ozpin, the Maidens, and a few others do stand a chance against Johnny boy. Yang has a good chance, if she remains conscious enough in the fight. 3. He's worse than the goats are if he keeps snapping like a tree.**

 **Guest (Arden Arwin Asha): Welcome, FP writer! I will try my best, and you still have a chance, as I am in the beginning stages of the story; I wish you luck as well!**

 **Cheese PuffXx: 1. Paranoia; can be a bitch sometimes, and one of your best butt buddies on a blue moon… 2. I think Deadpool needs to take a few lessons from this guy...**

 **alexkehling: Demolitions Expert would shed a tear of joy at John's display. And I'm glad you enjoyed that little bit; was wondering how I would include the Three Amigos seamlessly...Also, it's a 2D game going through the ground, with RE-LOGIC being extremely picky with who does what with their game, I'd be just as cautious.**

 **Guest: Nah, they can buy more.**

 **DarkElucidator: 1. WHELP. Best not let you down, then… 2. I'd say it's a bit of RE-LOGIC there, sir or madam!(I'm not sorry for that pun.)**

 **gold crown dragon: I will not include characters based on armor types. Also, John is able to utilize all four types of end-game armor without problems occurring. Which reminds me, I need to post the weapon list so everyone can understand what he's packing.**

 **Rakaan: That guy? A teacher? He may have a lot to learn, and he could teach a thing or two to the students of Beacon, but he doesn't trust himself to hold back against opponents, even if it's a sparring match. And though the offer WAS there, John did outright decline, and became a 'normal' Hunter to keep a guise against those wanting his talents, abilities, and strengths; even those that still aren't discovered yet...**

 **So you might be wondering on how the hell I am able to keep up with your guys' reviews...actually, you probably know already, considering the massive window I give each chapter. Seriously, it's pretty obvious by now. I won't even say how I'm keeping up, you just have to figure it out.**

 **And the guy above did have a good point about Ruby not reacting to John's weapons immediately. However...I feel as though every first encounter Ruby has with someone is asking about their weapons. WHICH! As we have seen, is not entirely the case. This rings true back in all the previous Volumes of RWBY. I won't even go into detail, as you could easily pull up an episode that has Ruby meeting someone new for the first time, and see that I'm correct in that regard. Showing off her weapon? Possibly, I'll concede there. As such, I might address that next chapter.**

 **That being said, I won't have a massive A/N this time at the bottom, as I honestly don't have much to talk about this time, so ENJOY THE CHAPTER!**

* * *

' _Don't question the sanity-draining things; it'll just make your sanity drain so much faster than usual._ ' ~Me.

* * *

Now, John wasn't a racist asshole. Certainly, he has a few choice words for enemies of his that are of a certain species, but he was friends with a goblin, cyborg, dryad, and a few others. Hell, they even laugh at some of his rants when he's drunk – which, because of the Demolitionist, is almost impossible.

Which leads him to his stance on the Faunas as a whole; adoration and envy. Having additional traits that assist in perception is extremely useful, in his eyes. Them taking part in reconnaissance is a massive tactical advantage, as they'd be able to spot out irregularities or differing intel scouted out by humans from before.

So, his confusion as to why they're being degraded because of these advantages was short-lived, as words spoken by the Wizard were repeated to him: " _Humanity, as a whole, has a distinct hatred for things that can perform better than they can themselves. It wounds their pride to ask for assistance from these higher-performing entities, and they'd rather bring them down to make themselves feel better than work with something that can out-wit them at a moments notice._ " Now, most of the time, he ignored the Wizard, as he was old, and made mistakes. But, there were times in which that old man was far more wiser than the Dryad ever could, and his words stuck.

' _It's like Ozpin took the codger's place, but at least isn't as much of an idiot as that fool was._ '

That was brought up, as there were four boys – calling them men would insult himself and every man alive – shoving around a rabbit Faunas; Velvet Scarlatina, if his memory serves properly. A second-year in Beacon, part of Team CVFY, led by Coco Adel, and an unknown weapon, the only thing noticeable being a box. For some reason, it felt...wrong. Almost as if it was…

"Exactly like me..." he muttered, eying the box. Immediately, he felt his weapons at risk. Every single one. ' _If I'm to continue my work, she CANNOT be anywhere around me._ '

But, that's then.

Now, he had work to do. He slowly got up, stretching out his spine, popping a few vertebrae in the process. Each pop made him exhale, and lightly groan in pleasure. John raised his arms, twisting them in each direction, popping his hands, fingers, shoulders, and elbows. He craned his neck to each side, feeling himself loosen up with each pop in his body.

Then, he focused on the neanderthals twenty yards away from him, and paused as he reached for a weapon. He had to decide carefully here; because of the box Velvet had, any extraordinary weapon he had would be at risk. Looking at his belt, he saw a black, gnarled hilt of a large sword, and smirked.

The Horseman's Blade. Of all the weapons he had, that one was a pain to try and modify. With help from the Guide, Tinkerer, and Dryad, they managed to make it collapsible for easier carry and use. If fate is fortunate, he wouldn't have to use it. But, knowing bigotry at it's finest, that hope is pointless to dwell upon.

He had his armor equipped during this time; his face was hidden carefully, the only ones to know about his look were Ozpin, Glynda, and Ironwood. Odds are, the idiots wouldn't even get a hint as to who he was, unless they're smarter than they look.

No time like the present, right?

He approached the group, and cleared his throat, calling for their attention. One of them passed a glance towards the armored figure, and immediately jumped back from Velvet in surprise and slight fear. Two others, one of them sporting a mohawk, noticed their comrade's movement, and immediately mimicked his own when they noticed they imposing figure. The last one, a redhead with armor equipped, turned around, releasing the second-year's ears, and sized up the Champion.

Already turning out to be interesting.

"You want something?" the boy asked.

"Depends..." the figure said. "Why...are you four...tormenting her?"

"It's not torment; she deserves it," he said proudly.

' _I smell arrogance. And racism. And idiocy._ '

"Oh? And...why's that?"

"Because she's an animal. She doesn't belong here."

OK, fuck reserved and calm. Time to teach a lesson.

"Neither do you," the Champion stated.

That caught him off-guard.

"What did you just say to me?!" he snarled.

And that was confirmation of two things right there.

"You. Don't. Belong. Here," the figure said, poking the boy's chestplate with each word. "In fact, allow me to quell your idiocy with some need-to-know information: Velvet Scarlatina, a second-year attending Beacon Academy," his words made the boy lose all color in his face. "Someone, given the opportunity, that could easily pound you four into the ground without as much as breaking a sweat if she ever needed OR wanted to. And you pulling on her ears is something that grinds a person's patience down to where someone WILL do that."

The boy looked nervous, but gathered whatever is inside him and pushed forward. "So? Even if she is, she's still a no-good animal."

Nail in the coffin.

The boy immediately raised his arms up in surprise as a gray sword appeared from within a black hilt, the tip almost piercing his throat. And, from the Champion's position, the right arm that wielded the sword drawn back, legs ready to move left, he was in a compromising position.

"And you're a no-good racist that can't see the humanity in everyone that isn't with or IS you," the figure spat out. "That tongue of yours will get cut out, alongside the rest of your head one day. It won't be today, but take heed in my words: The day in which you'll call for help from those that aren't of your race, do you know what will happen? **Nobody will come.** "

Surprisingly enough, the boy slapped the sword away, his arrogance was stupefyingly resilient. "And what gives you the right to boss me around, huh? I can report you to the headmaster about this in my own personalized events."

"Oh? You'd report me? A Huntsman, who has the utmost faith placed upon by Ozpin, who happens to be my boss, and trusts my word more than any of his students?" the Champion shot back.

And now the boy sees his mistake. "Wh-what?"

"Yeah...I suggest you begin working on making yourself less of an asshole, and more of a Huntsman-in-Training worth something more than just 'the racist prick that somehow became a Huntsman.'" The Champion pointed the Blade towards the academy, and the four buffoons ran off in terror. Upon twisting the handle slightly, the sword began to collapse upon itself, and retracted into the hilt, the guard closing itself to seal the hole.

' _As much as I don't like intervening in a situation that doesn't concern myself, I found that very, very cathartic._ '

The Champion turned towards the second-year, who stood shellshocked by how the day's actions turned around within a few seconds. "Are...you OK?" he asked.

"...Yeah. I'll...I'll be fine," she replied.

"Good. Were...you headed someplace?"

Her eyes widened in realization. "Class! Oh no, I'm late; Professor Goodwitch won't-"

A gauntlet fell onto Velvet's shoulder lightly. "Leave Goodwitch to me, Miss Scarlatina," he assured. "For now, let's get to class, right?"

* * *

"Miss Scarlatina!" the professor called out, upon her and the Champion walking into her class. "This tardiness must not continue; how many times have I told you by now?" She didn't allow Velvet to speak. "I'm afraid I have no choice but to-"

"Glynda, hold for a moment," John interrupted. "I believe that Miss Scarlatina's tardiness was not her fault this time; a group of four cornered her because of her Faunas traits. I shooed them off with a few words, and brought her to your class."

She blinked for a few seconds; it wasn't usual for others to interrupt her, unless it was Ozpin or a few other figures of power. Glynda was about to tell off the Champion for interrupting her, but upon hearing the reasoning behind Velvet's late arrival, she couldn't continue her previous sentence.

"...very well," she amended. "Thank you, Mr. Osborne, for escorting Miss Scarlatina to class. If you could provide a description of the four that stopped her after this class, I'll take over this issue and resolve it."

"That...would be fantastic."

* * *

That was over four hours ago.

The blueprint for the Chargers were stolen twelve weeks ago.

During that time, the Champion began scanning over data of possible bases of White Fang storehouses. There were many options when it came to thieving for supplies, but two were prominent; steal from the 'misguided' organization, or from the producers themselves, the Schnee Dust Company.

' _...I wonder if Weiss is in any way connected to that company, because of her last name,_ ' he thought.

There was time to think about that later. For now, the analysis of both options:

The SDC was heavily fortified when it came to mining and producing Dust. From what he gathered, the shifts between guards was around five seconds total, and in-between, there were more guards than usual, both in the mines, factories, and shipyards. Electronically, it was a nightmare: a high-capacity generator over, equipped with over 500 fail-safes to prevent almost all assaults from Scrolls, weapons, Semblances, and/or other methods. In addition to the main generator, there were 100 back-ups, equipped with the same amount of fail-safes, all of which were around four miles underground, making it nearly impossible to kill all power to the facilities.

In estimation, it would take a crew with top-tier equipment 100 years to break the locks on the security the SDC had in place. Needless to say, John was rather impressed; a resource like Dust was powerful, and in the wrong hands, dangerous; having security beyond that of what most BlackScrolls have currently isn't joking around.

They didn't take into account of a few things, however: First, magic. The Champion wasn't a stranger to the magical arts, and was incredibly talented in it's use. A large torrent of the Lunar Flare spell can decimate the generators within two minutes, at least. He could also use the Arcanum to destroy not only the generators, but the wiring so progress could be set back a couple of years.

The SDC also won't expect someone to drill into the generators, and take them. It would bypass all fail-safes, and can be sent to other locations to be utilized for another purpose. Speaking of wires, they can also be removed, causing paranoia and a nightmare for the technology department.

Targeting the SDC, however, has another inlay of problems. Should the Champion succeed, it would cause mass panic across the planet, drawing the Grimm to their doors. Thousands of innocent lives, vanquished within the first minute of Day 0.

That option was immediately scratched off. Which left the White Fang.

An organization that once desired cooperation now heralds a role reversal between Humans and Faunas everywhere, starting with the SDC and other key racists' termination. Mainly a hidden group, the Champion hasn't obtained much information about them, except that their tactics were violent, messy, and, at one point, uncoordinated. What they lack in terms of operational discretion, they make up for in planned secrecy.

With heavy scouring over images of selfies, family photos, and...other pictures...there was a single discrepancy the Champion found common; three diagonal scratches on walls. Cross-referencing that with nearby robberies, slaughters, and kidnappings, it appears to be a callsign for the White Fang, which was based upon depth of the scratchings. Surface lines were meetings, thin depth meant a robbery would take place, normal depth – the size of bullet holes – was a kidnapping/ransom order. Grimm marks, the depth of Beowolf claw marks to be specific, were targets to kill/destroy. It was an intricate pattern, and hard to trace if one was inexperienced.

The last marks were actually the hardest to find, until he heard scratching outside his room five weeks earlier. Surprisingly enough, he couldn't find out who was making the noise, and when he checked out the window, those marks were to the bottom right of his window when looking down. He took a picture of the image, and made a connection quickly with mass murders across Remnant.

The Champion knew the patterns, so he could trace one of the members without being spotted. The only problem was this: Why would the Fang need so much Dust to begin with?

A few options came to mind. Roman Torchwick, a thief for over 20 years, could be directing them to steal the Dust. And, considering recent patterns of trashed stores and full Lien registers, it did seem very likely that Roman and the Fang were in cahoots together. But that also raised more questions that answers, such as why would a group of human-hating Faunas be working together with a human in the first place? If it was to further their own cause, and Roman just so happened to offer his services in exchange for his prolonged existence, then it would make some sense. It did fit the puzzle with little issue. But, it made a piece that didn't make sense for the whole picture. As cunning as the thief is, even he couldn't have planned that many possible targets to hit throughout a few months.

Which meant someone else was pulling the strings here. But who?

' _It's that woman._ '

Cinder?

...that would be troubling. As far as he was concerned, Cinder didn't seem like one to pull the strings of both the Fang and Roman with such little effort. She seemed sincere enough with offering a spot for-

Wait.

Her offer, four months prior.

"...heh. It looks like she played her hand a little too aggressively," John muttered to himself.

Most would have accepted that offer on a few options; either it be from the fact they have everything to lose, nothing better to do, know how to play the game, or because of the possible bedding opportunity.

For the Champion, however, he had nothing to lose, everything to gain, and knew how to play the game in his own fashion. Because of his deal with Ozpin, he would learn how the world works, and then eventually vanish. And, thanks to how he can process unexpected information, he can adapt to whatever can come forth. Hell, he survived against supernatural forces beyond what he can comprehend, and became a lot stronger because of it.

But, that's neither here or there.

John shook his head, clearing it of nostalgia, and refocused on his analysis.

Tracing a member of the White Fang wouldn't be a problem. Because of his numerous tools, he could track them without being spotted, unless one of them gets too close. Even then, the Champion had numerous options to dispatch those that find him, and could replace them with himself, should they be the correct gender. If not, well, he could make it work*.

A day in the city, then?

* * *

 _Hours later…_

* * *

Everything went according to plan, with a larger harvest than John expected.

As it turned out, Snake Fauna did exist. And, because racists weren't picky, they targeted them more out of most other species, such as dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, and a few others. Because of this, a good third of many Fang brigades held Snakes, eager to get revenge.

Which is why a mutilated, dead one floated into the watery abyss.

John now wore the dead man's outfit, which fit him, unsurprisingly. Taking a few whiffs of it and of himself, it nearly matched when it came to blood. And, when he put on the outfit, the only way he could be found out was if someone could separate smells, and find him easily.

He also found a warehouse, chock-full of Dust. Which meant that if he could get a vehicle of some sort, John could easily empty the place, and make enough Armed Chargers to last a lifetime.

After securing a line to the GrimmNet, he found an information broker going by the name of "Junior." After cracking into his Scroll and triangulated his location, he reequipped his heist clothes, and set out to his nightclub.

* * *

 **I HAVE NO EXCUSE!**

 **I played Destiny, Fallout 4, and a few other things a bit much, with barely any break in-between for writing. Also, I have another story running as well. Goes by the name of 'Wasteland'; it's a Undertale/Fallout Crossover, with a...different twist. I won't say much, so go read that if you are interested!**

 **Soon – I'm not sure when – I'll begin livestreaming things! For exact times in which I'll begin, follow me on Twitter TehUnoman, on Facebook /teh . unoman, and Twitch /tehunoman. Remove the spaces for the Facebook address to visit my page.**

 **That's all for now, guys! I'll see you when I'm not as lazy to update this thing.**


	7. 1-07

**I wonder when people will notice the subtle note to John's home name. Come on, Amirokal? That was pulled out from in-between, and lightly polished to make it glitter. The fact that it's been six chapters in already, and THAT just so happened to avoid analysis is impressive enough for me to do this:**

 **The first USER to review or PM me what that world notes towards, you get to ask of me to include ONE THING after the first Arc is done. And it can be of anything that is NOT smut or pairings of any kind. I will allow friendly fluff, though, because pillows are awesome. It can be canon to this story, or a one-shot that is canon up to that point.**

 **The winner will be announced next chapter, and I will message them an hour BEFORE the posting of said chapter. That being said, if NO ONE wins, I will say what it noted towards, and that offer will not appear again. UNLESS! I find something that people didn't make a connection towards yet, and remake the offer. Always watch the halfway mark of each Arc, as the chapter after that has the chance to have that offer.**

* * *

It was a well-known fact that Hei Xiong was a veritable pool of knowledge on the GrimmNet. He gained his clientele through less-than-honorable means, and solidified it with kept promises, deals, and trades in the Underground. Needed a hitman? Junior could offer either one of his henchmen, or point you in the direction of a professional. Equipment for a robbery? He'd give you a slip of a marked dead-drop to get the job done. Martial strife? The Malachite Twins would be more than happy to assist in that regard.

John was here for equipment.

When he walked in, the dark walls of the establishment counteracted the glass dance floor in the center; four pillars changed colors as the beats of the song rippled through the club. Peeking at his phone, he counted 37 possible threats; two behind him, near the door. The rest were walking around, blending in. Or so they thought: Red sunglasses, ties, and weapons?

Fashion police would have a field day with this.

To his left was the man he was looking for: Junior. He was cleaning a few glasses while two others poured drinks. John walked towards the bar, a few Lien cards out already.

"What's your specialty?" he asked one of them, taking a seat on one of the stools.

The guy responded, but he barely heard him; he just nodded and handed him one of the cards. The tender went to the service station, and began working.

He took one of his platinum coins out, and slid it over to where Junior was at. He took notice upon seeing the bright coin shining at him, and walked over to the disguised Champion.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"I've been told you own a library, correct?" John said. He knew how to deal with brokers, and using code was key when operating underground.

It appeared to work; the man blinked once, clearly in surprise. "That I do; are you looking for anything in particular?" Junior replied.

"I am, actually. You see, a few friends of mine were researching aeronautical devices, but the material they had was...outdated," the Champion said. "I was hoping you had something more recent."

"I'm not certain if I have any in storage; the place is lighter than usual, after all." John found his drink next to his left hand. When did it get here?

' _Code for, "I'll need to see some payment first." Alright, I'll play along._ ' Fifteen platinum coins changed hands.

"Alright, I have something a few aisles down," the broker stated, handing the Champion a paper slip; an address written on it. "It's on the top shelf. Do you need a ladder?"

John took the cup, drank it's contents in one sitting, and slammed it back down. "I'll manage. Thank you for your time today." He threw two Lien cards onto the table, spun around, and left the establishment. Two minutes before Yang and Neptune arrive to obtain information, but neither party noticed.

* * *

 _Two hours later…_

* * *

Airfield 6, Hanger 13, SVTOL Bulkhead #2, Christened SHADOWFALL. Quad omni-directional thrusters with 12 stability engines able to carry 150 tons, Dust-infused steel plates to reflect projectiles, automated countermeasures in cases of heavy artillery, and a maximum height of 120,000 feet.

In other words, the perfect aircraft for the Champion to use.

Currently, there were fifteen guards outside the hanger, thirty-nine inside, with thirteen engineers maintaining the Bulkhead. Around the base were sixteen anti-air batteries, ready to destroy whatever is foolish enough to fly overhead that isn't perceived as a friendly.

John wasn't an idiot; flying in there with what he had would end badly. And if they tracked heat, even worse. That in mind, he began plotting out his next course of action, a few options already in mind.

First was to disable the electricity, decimate everyone near the hanger, and fly off with the aircraft. Straightforward, simple, and incredibly risky. Someone could easily take down the aircraft if their aim is on-point, or his abilities could be recognized if they notice him in town; it was an endless sea of risk that just could not be handled.

Second was to imitate a pilot taking the aircraft to a specified location. That was shot down almost immediately; too much suspicion, confusion, and all could end in his death.

Third would require a diversion, and then proceed with the first option, all without the mindless slaughter on his end. It would work, if the diversion ends up doing their job and takes out the base's power for at least a few minutes. Then again, relying on a hope that a team could do something to ensure his success is quite the gamble.

Fourth option would be impersonation. It would take too much time, but it was the most secure one he could take without a river of blood flooding the base.

Now, John was a person that could easily act like anyone he so chose, even going as far as changing his gender and name. How he does that is a trade secret; only those that have created the potion and drank it know of it's potency.

It goes without saying, then, that the Champion sighed to himself with the implications of option 4; first getting a disguise of a Fang member, then one of Vale's military?

' _I swear, by the time I get done with this, my new nickname will be_ The Man of a Million Faces, _I shit you not._ '

He got up from his perch on one of the hanger roofs, and began scanning over the populace for any potential targets. John leaped from roof to roof, looking over each soldier, and taking note of their profession. Upon reaching the ninth roof, he found his target; second floor, fifth window from the right. Perfect.

John took out an orange hatchet; it had a curse upon it that would track an enemy until it struck them, and return to the wielder. In normal circumstances, he would use a gun, but stealth was necessary. He raised the hatchet above his head, marking the target as an enemy, and threw -

*BOOM*

And threw it yards off-course from an explosion behind him, shaking the earth violently. It targeted the man, and veered onto him, but bounced off the roof harmlessly. The Champion looked around as the lights began flickering out, and shook his head as his target ran out of his room, free to live another day.

"Damnit...whoever did this, their timing is impeccable, but foolish," he muttered. "I now have to improvise."

Back on Amirokal, plans are everything. There were the basis of creation, and destruction; if something goes awry based upon a plan, 90% of the time, it would end in a bloody mess. In some cases, however, planning doesn't account for everything. During a battle against two giant robotic eyes, John fell into a pit, and was almost fried in his armor. Upon getting out, a star fell, destroying both at the same time. The Champion didn't know what to think of it, and was still confused by the time he returned to base with the Omniscient Souls.

The only other time he had to improvise was during a pirate invasion. As he did battle against a flying ship, slime began falling from the sky, catching him off-guard. In panic, he caused meteors to rain down. The resulting damage was...disconcerting, to say the least.

Luckily, it wasn't that hectic this time around, but he knew it was about to be. Taking out his binoculars, he checked the hanger once more, and found it empty, save for the Bulkhead.

"Good, free for the taking."

* * *

En-route to the warehouse, he changed into his White Fang disguise. Now he was Henry Calcite, a Snake Faunas that specialized in stealth operations; 80% of the time, the Leader picked him to steal intel, kill important targets, or capture powerful figures. Unfortunately, upon encountering the Champion, he fell to a blade that swung faster than any sword he could imagine, and was cut to pieces without uttering a single sound.

Midway into the flight, he copied the military frequency onto his phone, and then deleted it from the records. Then, he entered the Fang Warehouse's frequency, and began messaging them.

"Base Ipsilon, this is Calcite; I'm bringing in a Specialized VTOL from Vale Airfield Six; requesting permission to land, over." One...two...three...four...five...si-

"Pilot Calcite, this is Ipsilon; you are clear for landing; proceed to Dock 9, and await further instructions, over."

"Wilco." Activating the VTOL's stabilizers, he descended towards the dock, and landed safely. Looking out the window, he took note of a few things:

'Fourteen cameras; two by the doors, one on each lamppost nearby, marking twelve; possible thermal detection. Six Fang troopers, armed with SMGs; capacity at 52 bullets per magazine; no specialties or oddities noted.'

' _The plan goes like this; we allow them to inspect the Bulkhead for anything off, all while 'reporting' to the supervisor of the warehouse. En-route, we take down the camera's at the joint, which is only a sect of wiring at the wall of the warehouse; clipping it would not only cut the power, but the camera feeds as well. The troopers have night-vision, but lack thermal detection; this can be used to my advantage. An invisibility potion will be enough to take down the entire warehouse. Next...we allow a few allies to stretch their limbs…_ '

Plan is set, pawns are moving, the hatchet is hungry. Let the games begin…

* * *

"Calcite! As happy as I am to see you here with a hefty payoff, I'm not pleased by the fact you vanished for a few days," the middle pawn stated. "Where were you?!"

Alright, let's make this worthwhile. "Sorry, sir; boss asked me to grab this baby when the raid on Airfield 6 commenced. I cleaned it up before taking off, and removed any trackers the military might have placed on it," 'Calcite' replied, stepping out of the airship.

"...alright, you five; look over the SVTOL, make sure nothing was overlooked," he directed, sending the other five pawns to the aircraft. "Calcite, debrief with Lester; he's in his office."

"Yes sir," he replied, moving towards the warehouse. Looking through it, there were over fifty soldiers inside, each armed with either a rifle, a sword, or both. The first floor were racks of storage crates, filled with Dust; the second appeared to be an office space. Seven were inside a room, closest to the stairs.

Calcite took out his wire cutters, and found the sect of wiring. A single clip later, and the feeds cut out immediately. Acting quickly, he ran towards the generator, which was left unguarded, and destroyed the capacitor inside. The lights flickered and died, with some bursting outright.

Taking out a flask, the Fang trooper popped the cork off, and began chugging the contents. A familiar feeling of vanishing took over, and soon, he was invisible. Hearing movement, the Champion took cover as nine men ran towards the destroyed generator. One began looking it over as the other eight began scouring the place for the intruder.

The Champion had to be quick; guns were the fastest way to dispatch of the pawns, but it would bring forth the rest of the cell onto his location, not to mention local authorities, and Hunters, if he was unfortunate. Looking over his weapon collection, he found an old weapon; a gold-hilt double-faced hammer. Peeking over some boxes, one of the soldiers were about to wander towards his location; deciding on the hammer, he raised it overhead, and waited.

The moment he saw the black hood and gray mask, he threw it at incredible speeds. It slammed directly into the man's skull, and flung him into the crates to his left, becoming embedded into the metal. An instant kill. But the sound of the impact alerted the others nearby; the sound of running feet were confirmation of this thought.

He clambered on top of the boxes; risky, considering that seven would converge on their fallen comrade's position, and could sniff him out, but he needed to position himself to slaughter them.

' _I believe it's time I used the PML._ '

The Proximity Mine Layer was a device that fired encased rockets that burrowed themselves into the ground, and wait for enemies to enter their designated radius. If one enemy entered it's 'Killzone,' it would spell disaster for them, but anyone nearby would be seriously injured, with the possibility of death approaching fast.

Especially when the rockets were large enough to demolish the world before them.

He placed two mines in front of the body, and waited. The troopers did not disappoint; upon turning the corner, one spotted the leg of their comrade, and pointed it out towards the other six. They all ran over, one grabbing some massive pliers from a metal table, while another pulled out a radio.

*CLICK*

One of them stepped onto the mine, and comically looked down and back up again in the span of two seconds.

*BOOM!*

Five down, one severely injured, will bleed out, the other disoriented. The last one dropped the radio: Taking the opportunity, the hidden Fang trooper threw the hammer at the fallen Faunas, and the concrete took the man's head in milliseconds. He hopped down, next to the bloody trooper, and slammed his fist into their head, knocking them out. Looking up, the one that was working on the generator was running to the front of the warehouse. One shot of the Phantasm stopped the soldier in their tracks for good.

"Alright..." the Champion said, a large figure materializing behind him. "My pets; hunting season is now open..."

* * *

"In other news, the reports of a massive attack on a warehouse near one of Vale's docks proved to house a heavy concentration of a White Fang cell," Lisa Lavender reported. "It appeared as though it once held numerous stores of stolen Dust, from both local distributors in Vale to secure Schnee Dust Company shipments to our city. One of our correspondents, Cyril, is at the scene with the VPD; Cyril?"

"Thanks, Lisa: As you can see behind me, the warehouse in question has experienced fire damage all across its frame; however, it appears to be in a controlled fashion, as it trails all across many walls, and leaves numerous spots undamaged. Inside the warehouse, it's completely empty of all shipments, which isn't unheard of, as the terrorist group is known to keep the stores safe in case of possible attack. Also inside are the bodies of fallen White Fang soldiers, and it's quite the gruesome display. Whoever attacked this cell...it's possible that they had a vendetta against them."

* * *

 _Large spiders crawled throughout the warehouse, tearing apart the trooper's limbs, as a small group continued to fire onto a horde of them, to no avail._

* * *

"Unfortunately, there were no survivors, and reports of a stolen Bulkhead was reported last night by the Vale military, even though a raid by the Fang was repelled by our forces against them. The possible suspect points towards Roman Torchwick, though rumors state that the thief was on the other side of Vale during this time."

* * *

" _WHO ASSAULTED THEM?!" a man yelled out, smashing a table into pieces._

" _Whoa, now! Let's not get too hasty; I wasn't there during the attack! I was after the brats of Beacon," a man in a bowler hat exclaimed, hands in the air._

* * *

"Firemen have gathered a few samples from the warehouse, all while preserving what remains of it's integrity." A fireman held up a square of of the warehouse, half of it burned. "Now, as you can see, it clearly has the texture of embers still within the material. But, as I graze my hand over it, it's not even warm to the touch. It has the exact same temperature as the clean part of the stone here."

* * *

 _An orange chain of fire penetrated through the walls, scorching them as screams of pain resonated throughout the building._

* * *

"Is...is that from the roof?!" Cyril exclaimed, clearly worried.

Another fireman was holding a piece from the roof that fell through; it was scorched as well, but it was far more spotty, and the embers were emerald in color.

"Indeed; from what we can tell, someone managed to burn both sides of the roof thoroughly, with the entry point being the outside of the building itself," the man said.

"Do we have any evidence of this phenomena?"

* * *

 _Bright, green stars fell from the sky, piercing through the warehouse and exploding a few soldiers inside, screaming in agony._

* * *

Another one came out, holding a halved piece of the roof; blackened stone and embers lie within the sample.

"I believe that answers your question…" the fireman snarked. "From a short analysis, residue of the substance appeared on the flooring of the warehouse, with a large impact radius of ten feet."

"Is there any confirmation on whether this is a Dust-based attack or some form of advanced Semblance?" the reporter asked.

"We've done numerous tests to extract any Dust that remained within the marked tiles; unfortunately, they came up negative, and Aura appeared to be nonexistent upon scanning."

* * *

" _DEMON!"_

" _No...I'm what Demons fear above all else..."_

* * *

"Thank you for your time: Police have found only one insurgent still alive, but close to passing. I'm standing with the officer that found him."

"Thank you, Cyril; the place was covered in bloodstains, almost as though a butcher waltzed through the place and had a field day..."

* * *

 _Seven insurgents fired upon a massive construct, tearing apart three others in it's hands. It roared, and savagely tore into another two in front of it._

* * *

"...as we approached the dying Faunas, he grabbed my shirt, looked me in the eye, total fear washing over his face, and said..."

* * *

" _FEAR...THE...REAPER..."_

* * *

"Thank you, officer," Cyril said, shivering slightly. "Back to you, Lisa."

*BEEP*

The TV was shut off, Ozpin looking at the three silhouetted figures on his screen.

"Ozpin! This is dire news; you had a team overseeing the location!" the top-left silhouette exclaimed.

"I did, and yet I have no idea how they didn't spot this disaster, and prevent it in the first place," the headmaster replied calmly.

"Incompetence! You need to restrict their activities; make them learn responsibility," the figure stated.

"And what of the students themselves?" the bottom silhouette said. "They're still children, after all."

"They are the defenders of this world," the first one snapped back. "They need to grow up and actually do their job!"

"Councilman, I advise you to reconsider your words," Ozpin said. "Otherwise, I'm beginning to think that you're trying to do MY job."

"So what if I'm trying to? Someone has to do something!" the man said.

"Councilman...watch your tongue," the headmaster coldly stated.

"Or what, Ozpin?"

"Or I'll take your job and give it to a bright optimist," the second silhouette stated. "At least then I'll have some entertainment, peace, and quiet without your antagonistic arrogance plaguing this Council."

"...my apologies," the first one mumbled. "I...wasn't thinking straight."

"Headmaster Ozpin," the second councilman said, "we have faith in your decisions; as this was an event out of your control, the fault doesn't fall upon your shoulders. We're working with the VPD and the military to find the perpetrator, and hope for our work to bear fruit."

"I'll send some teams out there to find anything in relation to this tragedy," Ozpin offered.

"That would be for the best," the third one piped up. "Good-bye, Headmaster."

The trio disconnected, and Ozpin exhaled. This was spiraling out of control; someone else was making moves, and causing chaos against the White Fang. Sure, the attack will be a significant blow to the faction's morale and resources, but whoever enacted the assault-

*RING*

Ozpin looked at his Scroll, and sighed again; James was calling again. Hitting the answer button, he muttered out a "Yes James?" to the general.

"Ozpin, how many reapers do we know of?"

* * *

Cinder was absolutely livid.

Someone stole a whole warehouse full of Dust; it wasn't Roman, the bastard was on the other side of Vale, Emerald was with her the whole time it happened, and the White Fang were about to transport the shipments to Mount Glenn for Phase Two.

This would set them back at least a few months. Whoever did this…

Did they know of the plan? Are they working with the Maidens?

No...this was an isolated incident, at least. Odds are, some Grimm managed to get in, and slaughter the entire base, all while a Hunter working for the SDC found it, the warehouse, and the decimated troopers, killed the monster, called in the missing Dust, and is now en-route to a storehouse somewhere in Atlas.

But after a few hours of hunting over all possible trade routes, nothing came up as suspicious.

Which meant that it was still in Vale. But where?

In her anger, she almost didn't notice that the book she was reading was smoldering in her hands.

"Pardon me, miss?" a man's voice said. Cinder looked up, and she could only tilt her head with unease; the man was wearing a black hoodie, dark-blue jeans, and flip-flops. "You might want to check aisle 7; there's a few books in there that can help wrangle your Semblance if it gets out of control."

It took her a few seconds to know what he was talking about. "Oh! Thank you…?"

"No problem," he replied, turning around. "Have a good day, miss." He waved behind him, and walked out of the library.

' _That was...odd,_ ' she thought. It did help take her mind off of the robbery. She rolled her eyes; she was thinking about it again. Perfect!

Wait...there's a note on the table. When did that get here?

"You're not the only one in the game now, Cinder; a new faction's running around, and he's preparing for war. And, judging from his abilities, even if you find what you're looking for...you won't be prepared."

* * *

 **So...I immediately got to work on this one. Mainly because I needed to get the heist done, as if I sat on it for a few extra chapters, it would take too long. As such, our dear Terrarian got the materials needed to black market the shit out of the Chargers, and now has an additional weapon in his arsenal.**

 **Which reminds me...I should make it a real thing in the game. I'm not sure, though...I'll set up a poll on my profile, see what you guys think.**

 **In most cases, I won't type out a response to a review in the story immediately UNLESS the content of said review is important enough to force a response, whether it be of an amazing review, hatred beyond the first degree, or just a suggestion of something that will not be implemented in the story immediately.**

 **Gold crown dragon: hmm still I want a terrarian vs terrarian it would be fun as hell end game vs end game**

 **OK...Look, crown, I said it before, I'll say it again; Johnathan will be the ONLY Terrarian in this story. I'm sorry, but the way I see this story progress, having another one appear suddenly to battle against this one? Not only will this cause problems with the plot I have in mind, the amount of damage Remnant would take – hypothetically, of course – would be close to apocalyptic. The other Terraria worlds could handle that and more, because of what it has to go through on a daily basis. Now, if this was John vs another Terrarian on a Terraria world, perhaps, but that can be achieved through collecting the items from a Builder's Workshop, and fighting against someone's character online on HARDCORE character difficulty. It's not as fancy as the story suggests, but it gets the job done.**

 **Now, if you want to write it out yourself, by all means, go for it! All I ask is for you to credit me for the use of my character. And this goes for anyone that's reading this as well; message me if you want to use my guy, and I'll gladly accommodate.**

 **Something important now: The tragedy in Orlando is not to be overlooked. This is a hefty issue that just keeps popping up, which explains why I consider this as Zombie Cockroaches. I'm one that does not have any objections over what people are, as long as they don't shove it down my throat and try to make me something I'm not. I believe that everyone is born in a certain way, and the choices they make can determine their future, for better or worse. What they think can help them, they can partake, and if they're important to me, I'll support them. I may not be interested myself, but I'll help in any way I find comfortable myself to make the transition easy for them.**

 **That being said, I'd like for everyone reading to take a moment to think about someone who had a life-changing moment, consider why they made it, or what led up to it, and help make the process smooth and easy for them. Support those that you find important, no matter what changes they make; you may never know what your actions can do or prevent. You might save a few lives.**

 **Alright, tiny rant over!**

 **I believe that's everything on the list; have a good day, guys!**


	8. 1-08

**135 days.**

 **I waited 135 days for ONE guest reviewer to figure out the answer to the challenge. Holy crap…it was ridiculously easy, too! It's 'a-mirokal' that no one else got it up to this point.**

 **Ahem. Rant over; I'm not calling anyone dumb. Far from it. But that's just insanity right there. So, all of that aside, congratulations to guest reviewer Forbidden Stars for figuring out what the alliteration to John's former homeworld was. But, surprise! No reward will be handed out. Why? In the challenge, it says that the first USER that makes the connection will win. I don't care if you were lazy to log in at that time; no user account, no prize.**

 **So, that said, this reward is now off the table for some time. It will come back when the halfway point in the next Arc appears. By the way, if something appears odd in the story, keep that in mind. It might make sense in later chapters…or, in other stories. Alright, enough rambling from me, let's get this show on the road.**

* * *

There weren't many things to piss off Ozpin. In fact, many believe that should he and Lie Ren be placed in a competition, it would last years. Even then, it would be hard to decide who would lose their cool first.

Many don't know what happens when the Headmaster does snap in rage. Those that do are Qrow, Glynda, James, select members of the Council, and, of course, the Old Man that worked everywhere.

Now, Yang Xiao Long is another one that knows of his rage. And if you think that she's scary when enraged…

"Professor…why have the gears stopped?" she asked timidly.

Only a select few can weather the gaze of the damned, and survive.

"Hm? Oh, there's no reason for that," Ozpin responded off-handedly. "How can I help you, Miss Xiao Long?"

"It's about the Dust raid over by the docks," she began. "I was elected by my team to ask for permission for our team to assist in the investigation."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "And why have they elected you, instead of all four of you coming up here at the same time?"

"I'm not sure…something about handling terror better than others?"

Ozpin blinked, and pushed that thought to a back-burner for later analysis.

"And do you think you might know who would've caused it?" the headmaster pondered.

"Blake might think so, but everyone else has their doubts; this has to be put to rest, at least," she said.

' _Miss Xiao Long isn't incorrect; any information in finding whoever caused this would be helpful,_ ' he thought. "Very well; have the rest of your team come up, it'd be better for everyone to hear this." Yang nodded an affirmative, pulled out her scroll, and called her teammates. Ozpin pulled up a secured line to Johnathan, and made a call.

"Mr. Osborne, I'm sending a team to the warehouse to assist in your investigation," he began.

"Go ahead and send them, but I'm not at the warehouse," the Terrarian replied. "The Valean Military contacted me to investigate a theft of one of their aircraft on Airfield 6, which was the same night as the Dust raid. I'm speculating that there might be a counter-insurgency working here, but the officers here are thinking otherwise."

First the Dust raid, now a stolen aircraft? When will the bad news stop piling- "Wait, did you say 'Airfield 6'?" he asked, the room going cold very quickly.

"I did, why?" John replied, confused.

Airfield 6; a base commissioned by Atlas for advanced aircraft development, gifted to the Vale Military as a sign of goodwill and faith. Heavily defended, Faunas and Human guards working in tandem to guard the secrets being forged. And the aircraft wasn't for civilian use; these birds were machines of war.

"No wonder why that wasn't in the news, but how did it get stolen?" the headmaster asked.

"A large attack occurred; as it turns out, the White Fang were the culprits, but were supposedly a diversion," he began. "They all matched known names of Fang insurgents; there's speculation that the theft wasn't planned as such, and might've been the work of someone who does this for a living."

Torchwick was seen fleeing the scene of a highway chase Team RWBY was involved in. According to their accounts, he escaped with the help of a colorful accomplice who dealt with illusions. If it wasn't him…

"Thank you, John. Keep up the work," Ozpin said, exhausted.

"Of course, Ozpin. Sounds like you need a break," the Terrarian offered, and closed the line.

Ozpin pushed down his glasses for a moment, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He considered John's words, before deciding.

"Miss Xiao Long, I'm giving you and your team the assignment, so don't dally around; get to it," Ozpin commanded, getting a curt nod from the blonde brawler as she entered the elevator and went down. The headmaster opened another line to Glynda.

"Professor Goodwitch, whatever meetings I have for today…move them."

* * *

No one said a word. Not because of the carnage that occurred, but rather that it was cleaned up so quickly. With only one difference; anything that was nearby the warehouse was…gone.

Crates, walls, roofs, corpses, you name it; nothing remained except the concrete they walked upon. Even the officers were baffled; one sat on the hood of his car, guilt displayed for the world to see.

Ruby noticed this, and walked over to the distraught man. "What happened?" she asked.

"It…it was so fast," he muttered. "One second, I was patrolling the area, looking for any reclamation teams, the next, I was torn out of the car by a massive, brown Beowolf. But, it didn't kill me…it just simply knocked me down, and out." He looked up at the clear space. "By the time I came to…everything was gone. Cleaned up…"

Ruby looked around; not a single spot was left untidy. "Well…I'm the leader of Team RWBY; we've come to investigate the raid…or what's left of it, anyway," she said, muttering the last part.

The officer looked at her, and she noticed his eyes were dim. "Well, thanks, but your team isn't needed. Any evidence regarding this incident was lost – even the pieces that were taken back," he said.

Blake was listening in on the conversation, and perked upon hearing that. "I thought the evidence lockers were secured tightly?" she pondered.

"They are; yet someone got through with little to no effort," the officer replied. "There's always a few officers running the night shift, and cameras that can detect anything invisible, Aura traces, Dust; you name it, those cameras would probably spot it. Yet nothing suspicious came up, which is very concerning."

"This area looks too clean to have been holding a warehouse; there isn't even a speck of Dust anywhere," Weiss remarked. Her eyes widened as a sudden thought came to her. "Is there anywhere in the locker that looks too clean?" she asked.

The man tilted his head to the side, considering the implications. "I'm not sure; it's possible, though."

"Then we need to look around and find it," Ruby said.

* * *

Careless.

He'd been far too careless that time.

*BOOM*

His foot crushed an emerald-stained rock, destroying it utterly.

He was careful when acquiring the SVTOL from the military, but after that, he'd forgone all tact in favor of obliterating a garrison, and obtaining their supplies. In doing so, he left the one thing he shouldn't; evidence leading to HIM.

So, he cleaned the ruined warehouse – fortunate that the Celestial Shell kicked in to disguise his appearance when dealing with one of the guards – and hunted down the stored pieces. He now was destroying every piece, removing any trace to him for good. Ozpin's call was well-timed; he was transporting the stolen Dust into a ruined building southeast of Vale, and was able to fib a few things.

That was then, however.

Now…he needed to make the Chargers. A few people desperate for money will do anything they're asked, as long as they're paid.

And boy, did he have the literal goldmine in his hands.

* * *

He began field-testing the explosives once they made them as he expected. Fire melted away the Grimm, as the initial explosion damaged their armoring, and the Fire Dust itself burned them away – inside and out. Ice encaged them in large crystals, easy to smash into shards. Wind tore away the armor plates of a Deathstalker, making it incredibly squishy. Lightning Dust, however…

Anything inside the blast radius was killed instantly. The pulse from the Chargers actually had a side-effect when paired with Lightning; it supercharged the energy within, and upon striking a living creature, it fried their nervous system to a crisp.

In other words, they were incredibly successful. He had them make enough to last him a long time, and then…released a Beringel out of a Terrarium to slaughter them.

It was said that one couldn't cage any Grimm, for they'd either escape to cause havoc, or just die outright. However, the Champion disagreed; all creatures, even the soulless Grimm, need something to continue living. Negativity was their source, and thanks to his condition, the Beringel got plenty of it for just that one day.

The creature killed off the workers, and was obliterated by the Champion, removing the last trace of evidence leading to him. He now had a large set of Chargers to use, and most of his money back.

John loved it when a plan works wonderfully.

* * *

Regarding the call he received, he wasn't lying; after a good dose of 'serious suggestion,' the rumor caught on immediately. The Life Drain rod certainly helped in that manner, as it forced cognitive thought down as it drained the life from the victim, allowing the Champion to implant this false truth upon many ranking officers. Most he targeted were already weakened by the White Fang assault, making the procedure take mere minutes, what it would take a few hours at least.

To solidify his position, he had a handful of bird feathers with him, dyed them black, and then scattered them near the hanger. Just like the White Fang scratches, he left a few near the door; he would come up with something later, to throw off all parties.

The moment he entered his room, the air felt…off. Wrong. He recognized this anywhere; someone was here, that didn't belong.

And unfortunately for them, they didn't look like they knew their mistake.

He locked the door behind him, and observed the room; his bed, nightstand, dresser, and bookshelf were turned over, opened, and scavenged through. And, assuming from the increasing damage of the place as he looked it over, the thief was getting frustrated that there wasn't anything of value here.

The window was open – which he didn't recall opening earlier – and it looked like the carnage increased counterclockwise, reaching the closet. Where his safe was. Clicking noises coming from inside.

If only they knew the rules it abided by.

Though he was clad in his armor, he silently walked towards the closet, and nearly chuckled at the sight; a White Fang grunt was fiddling with the combination, quiet, angry exhales at the fact it wasn't showing any progress. It was humorous enough to where he considered actually laughing at their misfortune; a far more sinister thought brewed within, overriding this course of action.

He created the rumor of the Black Talon; what better way to make it real than showcase it to the world?

* * *

 **I suddenly came upon a dilemma; HOW DO I END THIS CHAPTER?!**

 **I rarely come across that when writing these things, and normally have it planned out for such an occasion. Not the case this time; I had a few ideas, but they wouldn't fit at the ending, so…CLIFFHANGER CLICHÉ, GO!**

 **This won't happen again for some time, so don't get used to it.**

 **That said, hope you guys enjoyed this short setup chapter, and I'll see you guys when I can actually concentrate on writing for once!**

… **no, seriously. That's been kind of an issue. However, with the help of Volume 4 release of RWBY – I didn't watch the episode, because I'm broke as all hell – I have a chance to snag my muse once more! Plus, with Cinder's new design, this lines up many things I have in mind…**


	9. Not a Chapter Will be Replaced

**Ok, so what I did last chapter wasn't nice – as in, not awarding anything out for a guest reviewer for figuring it out in-between update times. Yes, I'm not dead yet, let's get that out of the way first.**

 **I honestly was trying to improve my lifestyle by printing out workout plans online – nerdy ones. I'll provide the links on my profile, if I ever get to it. It's arduous, and difficult, but I find it working very well for me, and I feel better as well.**

 **So, instead of snatching the reward away until the next half of the second Arc, I'll modify it this one time: Because I'll be focused on this and Return to Dust, among other things, I will be unable to write out the in-between part for the 'Black Talon' – also known as training. The idea is that while the main story is produced, the side story shall run alongside it to show a different side.**

 **The rules are these: To be selected for BT: CIT (Black Talon: Counter-Insurgency Training), there has to be a certain aspect of realism, or as real as it can get with the RWBY/Terraria Crossover. You'll be given small use of the Champion for this, but its range will go from speeches to setups – i.e., crawling through the mud with barbed wire overhead while two Chainguns on infinite ammo fire overhead. People will die from the extreme training, which is why I predetermined the fatality rate for this to be at 98%, where 5% leave willingly, and a denial of medical leave. The Champion here will utilize the Obsidian Outlaw armor while training recruits, so don't change the outfit to something casual.**

 **Also, when I say realistic in tandem with the fatality rate being so ridiculously high, consider The Walking Dead. If you have watched the show OR read any of the books, you know how any situation can be flipped on its head, or make something bad become worse in seconds. Use that, and apply it to the training. If you haven't, go watch it; it's not that bad, actually.**

 **Walking Dead aside, the Champion will utilize every resource he can get his hands on, from creating simple bombs and whole digital cities for in-field testing, to androids to mimic Humans and Faunas and kidnapping White Fang grunts for incentive training. He'll push every recruit to the brink with everything he can throw at them; those that succeed will move on to the actual CI Training.**

 **In terms of writing, anything less than 1000 words for chapters – unless its updates like these – will be trashed outright. Grammar needs to be good, alongside the differences between their, they're, there, to, too, two, etc. I'm not even kidding, I've seen stories where people still make that mistake; I've actually followed stories made by writers that have English as their second language, just because they could make that difference! Punctuation needs to be appropriate; there are numerous types out there, so use them. Capitalization: Does This Look Good Anywhere In The Story? Please keep it like this, so people don't think the characters aren't yelling all the time. Of course, if it's. Like. This. Then I'll glance over it, if used sparingly.**

 **That's the gist of it. So, here's your freedoms: With exceptions to previously named characters that will appear in the main story, all trainees and White Fang grunts are yours to play with. Name them, create their personal stories, fears, hopes and dreams, relationships; as long as it doesn't affect the main cast or plot, do WHATEVER you want with them. When it comes to the training, there are no sick or lazy days, but you have power over what they do each day during training. Remember; if death doesn't occur at least a few times in the story, then it's going to look suspicious.**

 **To apply, I'll need a few things from you; first, a few chapters – give me three, and I'll look them over. Second, a solid update schedule – a chapter a week to a week-and-a-half is amazing, if you have the time for it, but I will take anything that is a month or less. Third, your soul…not really. What I will need is your acknowledgement that I have the power to terminate the story if it affects the main plot or characters in any way. If, however, it was accidental, and it actually makes it somewhat better, I'll let it slide ONCE. I'm not entirely heartless…I think.**

 **As a note, the contest begins upon the actual release of 1-09 of this story. Do NOT post a review on this update, as this will be replaced by 1-09.**

 **The winner will be announced AFTER 1-12. Which, I hope to get done soon. That said, good luck to you all, and may the best writer win.**


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